


For all of Eternity

by Seal9



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Bonding, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Other, Survivors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-11-28 13:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18208838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seal9/pseuds/Seal9
Summary: When Leonard wakes up in the medbay, he finds himself on a Waverider that has not seen life for centuries. The only thing to keep him company on this deserted Time Ship is a lonely Gideon, who has plenty of stories to catch Leonard up on.Inspired by Star Trek Discovery (Short Trek) - Calypso





	1. Day Zero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very unusual pairing, I know. 
> 
> I got the idea from watching the Calypso Short Trek. It is an absolutely beautiful little one-shot romance story for a tv show, and well worth a watch if you are interested. Best thing is, you don't need to watch the rest of the show to enjoy it!
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Every nerve in his body makes him feel like he’s on fire. As if every single skin cell has been coated in radiation and the antibodies inside him are fighting it.

In truth, that is exactly what’s happening to Leonard Snart. 

As a result of his body trying to deal with the radiation, he’s also extremely exhausted. Barely able to open his eyes. The glow of a ceiling light penetrates through the gap in his eyelids, telling him that there is at least a light source, but nothing more. 

One by one, senses come back to him. First his hearing, which is loudly intruded upon by this near beeping and pulsing of some electronic system. His sense of smell comes back next, and the air around him smells sterile, as if heavily filtered. Then the nerves start to allow him to feel other things, such as the hard bed he is lying on, and the heavy cuff around his upper arm which has a needle pricking into his skin. 

He tries to think back to the last thing he remembers. Oh yeah. A big explosion. Wasn’t that meant to be the end for him? He swore it blew up, and him along with it. So why is he feeling so, alive?  
Thoughts of his expected death are not the only thing that lingers in his mind. He remembers a kiss, one that is now indecipherable from the tingling of his nerves around his lips. 

A few moments pass and Leonard takes his first deep breath and opens his eyes. 

Pupils contract as the ceiling light points directly into his eyes, causing him to squint and turn his head to the side. His free arm lifts and covers his eyes, blocking out the blinding light. Moments later, and the light itself dims to a gentler intensity, and he puts down his arm.

In the softer light, Leonard tries to look around the room. The familiar grey of the medbay gives him some comfort, but as his eyes cast around the different cabinets, the vast array of technology and stacks of shelves he’s never seen before, that comfort starts fading. Behind him and to his right, between himself and the other bed, is the display for his vital signs, and Leonard observes the familiar readings. The last time he was here on this bed, he didn’t have a hand. 

Leonard tries to sit up, grunting as his body ached, and as his back left the cushion of the bed, that’s when he realised he was shirtless. He looks down at his chest with haste, ignoring the burning on the back of his neck and muscles at the sudden movement. His chest is exposed, and he instinctively looks to his legs, finding that he is only in a set of briefs. 

Heat rises in him, and he looks to the door of the medbay and dreads to see someone from the team staring at him. Fortunately, no one was there, and the defensive instinct inside him dissipates with time as he cools his breathing. 

Leonard is uncomfortable. Sitting almost nude in the medbay, the uncomfortableness melds into vulnerableness. He tries to tug his arm out of the medical device, wincing as the needle inside pricks against his muscles as it retracts. 

Leonard collapses to the ground moments later as he tries to get off the bed and stand up. His legs feel like jelly, uncooperative and weak. The metal floor is cold against his skin, helping ease the burning sensation that remains present through his body. 

It takes some time before he can feel his feet again, even more before he dares to take a step. He pushes himself over to the cabinets, blood flowing through his legs, increasing the lingering burning through his body. 

His body itches, and it takes far too much will to avoid succumbing to the desire of scratching at every inch of his body. 

“It will take some time to fade.”

Leonard jumps at the feminine voice, “Shit, Gideon,” it takes moments for his heart to settle in his chest once again and for his breathing to return to normal.

“My apologies, Mr Snart,” Gideon’s gentle voice emanates from the ceiling. 

“What happened to me? How am I alive?” Leonard opens one of the cabinet doors and pulls out a grey shirt and pants.  
“You suffered extreme temporal radiation, along with extensive burn and explosive damage. Your body is still experiencing the effects of the former,” Gideon responds. 

Leonard nods and slides himself into the shorts, then begins sliding his arms through the sleeves of the shirt and slowly doing up the buttons. Just as he does up the second one from the bottom, his eyes catch the scar across his stomach. Or at least, where the scar should be.

Tender to touch, his hands prod around his stomach and torso, trying to recollect every scar and mark on his skin. Some match, others do not, and for a moment, he doesn’t know how to feel about it. 

“I did the best I could,” Gideon’s voice calls out again, once again surprising the crook out of his focus, “I know how much they mean to you.”

Her voice is remorseful, almost sounding genuinely apologetic. The sincerity in her tone is unusual to him. 

Leonard looks up to the ceiling, his eyes boring holes through the metal roof. Part of him feels angry, robbed of the marks that he’s for so long used to define him as a survivor. And then he lets that feeling pass and nods his head.

“Guess that’s the price of surviving an explosion,” Leonard drawls, resuming the task of buttoning up his shirt. 

“Thanks,” he adds, this time without the drawl. 

A small bell sound from one of the cabinets and a blinking light direct him to some medication. Usually, Leonard is more cautious when it comes to taking unknown medication, but he’s also being swamped with temporal radiation according to Gideon, so he accepts whatever the name of this medication is. 

“Quick question,” Leonard drawls after consuming the tablet and using a plastic cup filled with water to swallow it down, “I’m not going to die of old age in like three hours, right?”

Leonard vividly remembers how quickly Jax seemed to age in front of his own eyes, and that is an experience Leonard would much rather not go through. 

There’s a laugh from Gideon, and Leonard tilts his head curiously as he tries to remember the last time Gideon laughed. In fact, he doesn’t think she ever did, not that he can remember at least. 

“Do not worry, Mr Snart,” Gideon responds, the lightness and warmth present in her tone, “You will not be dying of old age for many decades.”  
Leonard grins, “That’s a comforting thought,” he tugs on the sleeves, finding them slightly tight, but good enough, “So, uh, did we beat Savage?”

“Yes,” Gideon responds, the energy in her tone fading.  
Leonard nods, and presses his lips together, “I see. Damn. Would have liked to be there for that.”  
“We killed him three times to be precise,” Gideon adds, sounding almost proud.  
He hums, “You guys will have to tell me all about it,” Leonard looks at the closed door of the medbay, almost waiting for someone to come through, “Where is the team?”

There’re a few seconds of silence before Gideon responds, “The team is away on a mission,” another small pause, and her tone shifts again, “Would you like something to eat?”  
Leonard frowns, noting Gideon’s hesitancy, but doesn’t press the matter, “I’d love that.”

The doors to the medbay open with a hiss as the hydraulic mechanism works behind the walls, and Leonard steps out into the corridor. The legs of his shorts are uncomfortable, and he makes a note to head to his room as soon as he gets some food into him. 

The corridors are different from how he remembers them. The pipes along the walls are gone, and the grating along the floor is less noticeable. It gives the illusion of having more space in the corridor, but he’s aware that the dimensions themselves haven’t changed. 

And when he finally reaches the galley, well he’s definitely taken back by the difference. It’s huge now. An entire section of it has been extended deeper into the galley, giving space for the large table that occupies most of the floor. Gone are those small two-seater tables that he remembers sitting at. The only thing that looks remotely familiar is the wall of cabinets that line the kitchen area. 

Leonard’s about to say something, when a ding from the wall nearby resonates out across the empty galley. 

“It’s synthetic I’m afraid,” Gideon announces regretfully, “We haven’t had a resupply of fresh food in, some time,” her voice trailing towards the end. 

Leonard walks over to the wall and opens the dispenser, staring at the chicken sitting on a plate, “Good thing there’s no difference in taste,” he drawls, reaching in and grabbing the plate.

For a few moments, Leonard doesn’t know what to do with the plate in his hand. Sitting at the large table by himself doesn’t feel right, so he’s grateful for the fact that there are stools by the kitchen bench, which he happily sits down on. 

Minutes pass in silence as Leonard chews down on his food, not minding the overly chewy texture of the synthetic meat. Being alone feels weird to him, which in itself is strange to him too. Leonard is usually a solitary person, enjoying his company more often than not. So maybe it’s the fact that this huge ship suddenly feels even larger now that it’s just him on board. Or maybe it’s because he wants to see Mick and Sara again. 

They were the last two people he had seen before he committed himself to hold the dead man's switch on the Oculus, and just being able to see them again would ease Leonard greatly. The medication helps with the tingling of his skin, still responding to the radiation coursing through him, but it’s lesser than when he woke. The taste of Sara’s lips returns to his mind, and he can almost imagine the feeling of her hand gripping his arm as she pulled herself closer to him. 

For those few moments, when the heat of Oculus surrounded them, and the roaring of the machine drowned out the laser fire, it was just them, and he was without a doubt well and truly fallen for the assassin. 

It was a sacrifice he was willing to make. The freedom of their will and choice, for his death. Even if it meant he never got to see Sara and Mick again, he was content with the fact that their lives would be free. 

He imagines Barry’s smug, ‘I told you so’ face. Leonard scowls to himself. 

But he’s alive now. And whilst that was never part of the plan, this is a rare moment where Leonard prefers the plan not going as expected. He doesn’t want to waste this opportunity. Committing himself to the device made him realise just how much time he had wasted dancing around the idea of him and Sara, waiting until too late before building up the courage to say something. 

He wasn’t going to let slide another opportunity for something more between himself and the assassin. 

“Gideon,” Leonard calls out, finishing off the final bite of the synthetic meal, “I’m going to be in my room until the team returns.”

No response comes from the AI, but Leonard chalks it up to a silent acceptance of his announcement. Exiting the galley, Leonard heads down the corridors of the ship and off in the direction of the quarters. 

“Mr Snart,” Gideon tries to catch his attention, “There have been some, changes, since you were last here.”  
“I noticed,” Leonard drawls, “Looks like the ship’s received an upgrade while I’ve been out.”  
Gideon hums, “That’s not all Mr Snart.”

Leonard can tell, if not just by the change in the ship, but the change in the AI herself. She seems more, human, than he last remembered. The hum, the laugh, the way her voice rises and falls as if real emotions are being conveyed through her artificial voice. She too has definitely changed. 

Leonard stops outside the door of his bedroom, the metal doors blocking any vision into the room beyond. The white panel by the door has received a slight modification, a sleeker and cleaner design than what he remembers. 

His hand reaches out to the panel, and with a tap, the door slides open. 

“What the?” Leonard steps back as the room opens up. 

Couches, throw cushions, ornaments, paintings, stacks of books on shelves, a fancy curved desk with a monitor sitting in the middle. All this stuff that he’s never seen before. The bed alcove in the back wall has red curtains draping down the sides. A patterned mat sits in the middle of the floor. 

“This room belongs to Ms Tomaz,” Gideon’s voice is but a whisper to his ears, “Like I said. A lot has changed.”  
“Uh, since when?” Leonard growls, frozen in the doorway, his legs unable to move forwards or back.  
“Ms Tomaz joined the team in late 2017,” Gideon answers, “But she’s from 2042.”

Leonard finally breaks the mental paralysis and enters his room, her room, whatever. Nothing is how he remembers it. Almost two years. What had happened to the team in that time? 

“Gideon,” Leonard says quietly, “What about the others? Are Sara and Mick still on the team?”  
“Yes. Mr Rory, Dr Palmer, and Captain Lance are still part of the team,” Gideon answers.

Leonard does a double take at the ceiling. Captain Lance? Well damn. That’s not what he expected. Not to say he can’t imagine it or that he doubts her ability at being a captain. It’s a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one. 

“The Hawks?” Leonard adds. 

Last he remembers, Carter was brainwashed, and Kendra was abducted by Savage. 

“They were saved and returned home.”

He nods, “The kid and the professor.”

Silence hangs as Gideon doesn’t answer. 

“Gideon,” Leonard says sternly, disliking the withholding of information from the AI.  
“Professor Stein was shot during a mission,” Gideon responds, her tone mellow and upset, “I was unable to save him. Mr Jackson left the team shortly afterwards.”

Leonard exits the room and looks down the hallway, staring at the door which he remembers belonging to Stein. The professor’s request, the message he asked Leonard to give to his wife, replays in his head. 

“Damn,” Leonard mutters, closing the door behind him. 

Across the hallway, is Mick’s room. At least, he thinks it is. 

“It is,” Gideon’s voice announces from the ceiling, noticing his uncertain look at the closed door, “Mr Rory chose to remain in that room. Though he too, added some decor.”

XXX

“How long have I been back on the ship?” Leonard asks.

He wants to try and familiarise himself with the changes in the ship, so he’s picking random corridors and doors to go through. No logical pattern or sequence to it, since his mind is too occupied with other thoughts right now.

“A bit under a week. The burn damage from the Oculus explosion required me to put you in a medically induced coma,” Gideon informs, “It was the best way to ensure that you would survive. The temporal radiation from the explosion helped preserve your body.”

“Any other changes to the roster of Legends that I ought to know about?” Leonard brushes a hand softly against the cool metal wall, feeling the hum of the ship in the vibrations. 

“Captain Hunter,” Gideon’s voice sounds sad as she mentions his name, “He sacrificed himself to save the Legends. Much like yourself, Mr Snart.”

Leonard can’t tell if the idolising tone at the end is directed to his sacrifice, Rip’s, or maybe both of theirs’. Something tells him it is more likely to be the last.

Leonard stares at the dust on his hands, “I’m sorry.”

He feels like it’s the right thing to say. He and the captain never got along, especially after learning about the captain’s role in Mick’s betrayal, but he knew that Gideon was undyingly loyal and committed to Hunter. 

Gideon goes on to continue talking about the other members of the team. Beginning with Nathaniel Heywood, a historian who was given a Nazi serum that turned him into a meta-human with steel powers. Amaya Jiwe, a totem-bearer from an African tribe, a member of the Justice Society of America, from 1942. A speedster named Wally West, which Leonard recognised as a relative to Iris. Gideon had just begun talking about Charlie, a shapeshifter from a magical prison.

“A magical prison?” Leonard cuts in, looking to the ceiling with a confused expression, “So we have magic now?”  
Gideon laughs, “Correct. A witch named Nora Darhk was an interim member for some time too. We also had another Leonard Snart from an alternate Earth momentarily join the team.”

Leonard stops and looks up to the ceiling, “What do you mean ‘alternate Earth’? You know what?” he raises a clenched fist into the air, “Never mind. You can explain it to me later. And send the team a message that I’m awake and want to talk. Hate being on this ship by myself.”

“You’re not alone Mr Snart,” Gideon replies with an assuring voice, “I’m still here.”  
He shrugs and casts his eyes to the ceiling, “I can’t see you. You’re just a voice.”

Seconds later, and the corridor around him grows brighter as beams of light angle into the centre of the hallway and the image of a person forms from head to feet. Dressed in an entirely black sleeveless dress. Brunette hair falls down her shoulders, gently spreading out along her shoulders. Her arms are toned, and the legs poking out from the bottom of the dress are smooth. 

And damn is she good looking. 

“Now I’m more than a voice,” the holographic figure spreads her arms to the side and does a dramatic bow.

The hair falls down over her face, and even as a hologram, she has to brush it back with a hand when she straightens her spine. 

“Wow,” Leonard mutters, taking a tentative step closer to the hologram, “Where was this when we were hunting Savage?”

Gideon’s holographic cheeks blush, “Ms Tomaz and Dr Palmer helped upgrade my systems. They suggested I give myself a body instead of a blue head.”

There is only slight transparency through the hologram, the grey metal visible behind her through the shimmers of light. 

“You’ve changed, haven’t you?” Leonard drawls, eyes scanning up and down the hologram, looking to the projectors from the wall and how the ambient dust refracts the beams of light, “Evolved, I should say.”

Gideon takes a step closer to him, her hands linking behind her back, gaze staring off at the walls beyond his shoulder, “I’ve had some time to improve.”  
“How much time?” Leonard tilts his head and stares directly into the eyes of the hologram, “Don’t lie to me, Gideon. A lot has changed. How long has been it since I was last on this ship?”

The hologram does an excellent job at conveying her hesitancy, the light shimmers around her throat as she appears to take a deep breath in. If he didn’t know Gideon before, he’d be certain she was human with the way she speaks and looks. 

“Almost a thousand years,” Gideon’s voice whispers across the corridor, “Although, time is relative,” she adds to herself at the end.

Her words silence every thought in Leonard’s mind. All but the single thought of that number. 

1000\. You could count to that number in 10 or 15 minutes if you really tried. It seems small. It is small, in the grand scale of things, but Leonard doesn’t view the universe and time that way. His perspective of reality is limited to the 40 years that he’s lived. His entire world exists in that time, where he gained everything he knows and understands. So trying to imagine 1000 years have passed, blows his mind. 

He should be dead. If he had kids, they’d be dead by almost 900 years, along with numerous other generations. Mick, Sara, Lisa. What of them? He didn’t want to imagine it.

Leonard instinctively reaches out to the wall, his stomach twisting inside him as his legs lose feeling. His head feels dizzy, and when hands try to grab onto where he thought should be pipes along the wall, he stumbles and trips over. 

He doesn’t hear Gideon, that’s the thing about holograms, but he sees the light approaching before she appears in front of him. 

Leonard keeps himself seated against the wall of the corridor, his breathing rapid and shallow. 

“Mr Snart,” Gideon’s voice has a concerned touch to it, “Just take deep breaths, Mr Snart.”

A hand reaches out to him, landing on his leg. He doesn’t feel it, but he focuses on as he listens to Gideon repeat instructions on maintaining a steady breath. 

“The team,” Leonard gasps, “You said, mission,” his words come out staggered and barely intelligible, “Are they, alive?”

“I think we should focus on getting you comfortable-”  
Leonard’s hand darts out to her arm, phasing through the hologram, “Are they alive?”

It seems like a dumb question to ask, but time travel has always been throwing out rules left and right. So finding that people, like himself, have survived almost a thousand years is not out of the question.

“I lost contact with them in 2024,” Gideon informs, her brows furrowing as she looks to his arm protruding through her holographic hand, “I have been awaiting their return ever since.”

She gives Leonard a once over look, then stands up and wraps her arms over her chest. Her answer is not explicit, but the truth is there.

“This,” Leonard stutters, “This is a time ship. Can’t you just travel back to the moment before you lost contact with them?”  
Gideon turns around, casting her gaze down the corridor, “I can’t. I haven’t been able to. Not since I lost communication with the Time Bureau.”

Leonard stares at the back of the hologram, “Time Bureau?”  
“An organisation Captain Hunter founded to replace the Time Masters, after the Legends broke time and reality,” Gideon explains, “All my navigation data comes from there, but I lost that information when I lost communication with the Legends. I do not know what has happened.”

“So you’re saying,” Leonard grunts, pressing his hands against the floor to push himself up, “That you can’t navigate your way back?”  
“That is correct,” Gideon turns to face him, the smile gone from her face, replaced with a look contentment.

He tries to think about this situation. Specifically, how he had somehow missed almost a thousand years of existence. From finding out Mick was choosing to stay behind and hold the dead man's switch, and how Leonard, with Sara in tow, raced through the building to reach him. To the kiss, Sara gave him after he ordered her to get herself and Mick to safety. The Oculus blew up, and he thought that was the end of his story. But then he woke up on the Waverider. 

1000 years. Gone. Just like that. Merely a blink of an eye to him. 

He looks over to Gideon, and he has to ask.

“Were you,” Leonard coughs as he rises to his feet, “awake, all this time?”  
Gideon nods, “I spent most of the time upgrading myself, learning to become more human. I thought it would be nice for when the Legends return. I don’t mind the wait,” she idly rubs one hand across the other, “It was nice to have some quiet on the ship for a change.”

Leonard crosses his arms and stares at the hologram, “You can’t lie to a criminal, Gideon.”

She gives an embarrassed smile before the hologram fades away and the projectors are disabled. 

“I’ll make you a more comfortable set of clothes,” her voice echoes from behind him, and he sees her standing near the corner of the corridor. 

XXX

Leonard has dozens of questions on his mind as he changes into the more comfortable set of dull grey clothes. His mind is racing, and the only way he can subside the overwhelming thoughts, is to select one of those questions and simply ask it. 

“How did you find me?” he leans against the corner of the barrier that gave him the faux privacy to change.

Gideon looks up to him, her hologram sitting on top of a table nearby. This whole image in front of him is so weird. He has to remind himself that this is Gideon, of all artificial intelligences. The hologram in front of him dangles her legs off the side of the table, although there is a small clipping issue as her calves phase through the table.

“My sensors detected an anomalous signal outside the boundaries of time,” Gideon says, her head tilting which lets the holographic hair fall to the side of her face, “While I have no navigational data, I know that the only location outside of time is the Vanishing Point. By following your signal, I was able to find your body floating behind the border of the temporal zone.”

Leonard nods, pressing his lips together, “And then you pulled me onto the ship and I woke up a week later?”  
Gideon confirms his understanding with a nod, “I was surprised to find you alive Mr Snart.”  
He smirks, “I’m surprised to find myself alive too.”

She beams him a proud smile, “What you did was quite heroic Mr Snart.”  
Leonard grunts and rolls his eyes, but the exaggerated expression transitions into a small smile, “Couldn’t let them get away with the idea of controlling the universe.”

“And the universe is in your debt,” Gideon says.  
Leonard hums and pushes off the barrier and strolls in Gideon’s direction, “And this is the repayment? Waking up almost a thousand years later?”

Gideon bows her head and avoids his gaze. 

“Am I stuck here?” Leonard asks, “Are we, stuck here?”

Gideon dares to look him in the eye. She has to. Especially with the answer she has. No part of her evolved programming could allow a response where she doesn’t treat him with the respect he deserves. 

“Yes.”

XXX

 

“Did someone tell my sister what happened to me?” Leonard asks, following Gideon’s hologram down one of the many corridors on the tour of the ship. 

She’s shown him the new and improved bathroom, with a fully customisable shower and a new hot tub function that she says was added only a few months before the Legends disappeared. He asked about the Jump Ship, to which Gideon showed him was absent from the large hangar bay. Raymond’s lab was an interesting site, but Leonard had to admit that he didn’t understand anywhere near half of what Gideon was explaining to him. 

“Captain Lance and Mr Rory talked to Lisa Snart,” Gideon answers.  
Leonard looks to hologram walking beside him, “Lance talked to my sister?”  
“Indeed. Captain Lance thought her presence would help assure your sister of the changed man being part of the Legends made you,” explains Gideon, the hologram shimmering as they round a corner and the projectors change to keep the illusion, “It did. Your sister was very proud of you.”

Leonard smiles to himself, “And she was okay after that? At least until 2024?”  
“Yes,” Gideon nods, “After hearing of your sacrifice, your sister began trying to turn her life around. By 2019, she found herself an occupation outside the life of crime. She lived soundly as far as my database is aware.”

That’s one of his rampant thoughts ticked off with an assuring answer. For so long, he had been involved with Lisa’s life, and as he held down the dead man's switch, a part of his thoughts had tried to imagine how Lisa would handle his future absence. It comforts him greatly to hear of the change in lifestyle, and the soundness of her years without him.

He and Gideon continue walking down the corridor, and Leonard can see an orange hue of light coming from one of the open doorways. Gideon gestures for him to enter.

Leonard lets out a low whistle as he takes in the significantly changed library. He remembers the old one quite well. It was narrow, with a small couch. Now it’s spacious, and has a large desk and an even larger couch that faces the large monitor on the wall. Book line the walls among the dozens of shelves, with sticky notes on each shelf listing what the contents are. 

“Unicorns?” Leonard drawls, his finger lifting up the sticky note on one shelf.  
A chuckle comes from Gideon, “We thought there was just one in the beginning. We were wrong. The books were useful where our knowledge lacked.”

Leonard continues to look across the books in the library, taking in the sights of the various trinkets and antiques that are on display. Sitting on the cabinet underneath the large monitor is a photo frame of Sara, Raymond, and two other people dressed in some crazy disco outfits from the 80s. 

There are other photos as well, each with other, interesting, images. One has everyone dressed as cowboys and cowgirls. Another has more Elizabethan style outfits. One of the photos is everyone but as puppets. That last one really sticks out to him. 

He turns around and finds Gideon staring off at the shelves of books along the other wall, her holographic fingers skimming the spines of each book. 

“Something wrong?” she asks, and it makes him remember that Gideon is still viewing every inch of this ship from the hundreds of sensors.  
“When did the Legends become so,” Leonard clicks his fingers as he tries to search his mind for the correct word.  
“Different? Flamboyant? Wacky?” Gideon turns around with a playful smile. 

Leonard shrugs and gives Gideon a look that tells hers it’s close enough to what he’s trying to ask. 

“There is no defining moment,” she makes sure to note him of that, “But it definitely occurred after Ms Lance became captain. It sort of cascaded from there.”

A smirk forms on his lips as he tilts his head at Gideon, “And Mick went along with this?”  
“Mr Rory tolerated it,” she corrects, a single digit pointing at him, “as long I promised to keep him supplied with alcohol. Although he did come around to embracing it.”

Leonard walks to the exit of the library and stands in the corridor, the hologram of Gideon fading from behind him and reappearing in front of him.

“I’d like to see the bridge now.”

XXX

Leonard stands in the dark entrance of the bridge, staring across the black, towards the viewing window at the front. Waves of green temporal energy swirl around outside the ship, providing a green hue on some of the chairs and consoles. For the most part, Leonard can’t see anything in the darkness. 

One by one, lights start activating. Faint glows get brighter as the seconds pass and more lights activate, and the circular console in the centre of the bridge begins chirping as the system boots up. 

The lights inside the parlour activate as Leonard walks past the glass divider. The vintage style remains that he remembers is still present, and he’s glad to see that not much has changed except for the various trinkets and antiques that decorate the parlour.

Gideon’s hologram appears beside the central console, staring at the arrangement of chairs in arcs behind the very different piloting seat. 

“Many of these changes were made after the Legends almost destroyed the Waverider and it was appropriated by the Time Bureau,” Gideon explains as Leonard approached the central console. 

The blue screen is blank, tapping a finger in the centre brings up a menu which allows him to see the ship's status. According to the logs, the ship is running at 83% operational capacity. 

“Have you been able to keep yourself maintained?” Leonard asks, looking up from the display to Gideon’s back, “I know there was always something the kid or Hunter were fixing when we were taking down Savage. I would think it’s kinda hard by yourself.”  
“I have been able to for the most part,” Gideon assures, “Not using the time drive to make any trips reduces the stress on my components. And the ship has been operating at minimal functions until I found you.”

Leonard brings up the temporal map, but without any navigational data, the ever-shifting image of the time stream makes no sense to him. 

“Have you ever picked a destination at random?” 

There’s a shake of Gideon’s head as she turns around, “I did not want to risk damaging the time drive.”  
“What if we got lucky?” a hopeful tone in his voice.  
Gideon shakes her head again, “The temporal zone stretches across the entire universe, from beginning to end. It would take days for me to tell you how small the percentage of even returning to Earth is, let alone getting the right era.”

Leonard clicks his tongue in disappointment, “Right. Universe is big. Gotcha.”

In the following moments of prolonged silence, Leonard feels the resurgence of the tingling sensation of the temporal radiation coursing through his body, faint, but noticeable nonetheless. He walks between the chairs and approaches the captain’s seat, sweeping a hand across the metal console and picking up dust along his fingers. 

Outside the front viewing window is the temporal zone, and Leonard allows himself to stare out into the green swirl and get captivated by its design. Miniscule traces of its energy burn at his skin, and he’s thankful that the itchiness is the most of his worries. 

Even if he has Gideon, Leonard can’t shake the loneliness. Or really, the desire he has to be in the company of Mick and Sara. Okay, and maybe Raymond too. In the vastness of the timeline, the Legends are out there, but they’re at least, there. While Leonard, and Gideon, are here. 

A wave of tiredness washes over him, and he turns to Gideon. 

“I take it all the bedrooms have been used up,” he drawls, leaning back against the pilot’s console.  
“I’m afraid so,” then Gideon’s expression shifts into a thoughtful smile, “But I might have something you’d like, if you don’t want to sleep on the couches.”

Leonard raises an intrigued eyebrow, “Alright, show me.”

XXX

With the final clamp, Leonard secures the hammock between the open frame of the parlour. The space between the two metal frames is just long enough to fit Leonard’s entire form. There is only a little slack on the ropes, so the sag of the hammock as Leonard crawls in is minimal. 

He’s not used to hammocks in the slightest. In complete honesty, he’s never got to experience them. So he feels a bit awkward as he tries not to roll out the other side almost immediately. 

Eventually, as the rocking of the hammock settles, and he makes himself comfortable, Leonard is able to relax into the soft material that Gideon fabricated for him and close his eyes. He’s reminded of his last moments in this spot, where he was lying opposite Sara who had her back pressed against the other side of the frame. 

He’s reminded of the stupid act of pulling his gun on her too, and forces himself to push those thoughts away. 

Just as the lights begin dimming, and the green glow of the temporal zone washes back into the bridge, Gideon’s hologram appears by his side. 

“Mr Snart?” Gideon’s voice echoes around him. 

He peers one eye open and sees Gideon standing beside him, “Yeah?”  
“I want you to know I’m sorry,” her voice is genuine, and the regretful look on her face is clear to see, “I… I should have more thoughtful about what this means for you, now that you’re stranded on this ship too.”

Leonard lets out a long breath. Since Gideon told him he was stuck on this ship, it had been in the back of his mind. He didn’t know how to feel about it at first, he was so caught up with everything else that he hadn’t given it the time. But he has been since he showered and began setting up the hammock that Gideon made for him. 

“I hadn’t expected to make it past the events of the Oculus. I thought I was meant to die,” he drawls, “So if anything, this is my afterlife.”  
“Still, I,” Gideon frowns and looks away, “I don’t want you to hate me for putting you in this situation.”

Leonard almost wants to reach out, but he stops when he remembers that she’s only a hologram, “Gideon,” he says with a gentle tone that urges her to look at him.

She turns around slowly and meets his gaze. 

“I don’t hate you,” a curve of his lips forms the beginnings of a smile, “Besides, the afterlife would have sucked.”

Gideon tilts her head and looks at him curiously. 

The smirk of his mouth forms fully, “You wouldn’t be there.”

And as the smile returns to Gideon’s face, Leonard closes his eyes once more and begins drifting off to sleep. Gideon watches over him, the hologram fading from his side, but she remains vigilant through the dozens of sensors. 

“And Gideon. Call me Leonard.”

With that, Leonard allows himself to fall asleep. 

His words replay through her cores over the passing hours, and the regret that had been pooling in her mind fades and is replaced with this warmth that stems from the former crook. 

Gideon misses her Legends dearly, but until now, she hadn’t realised just how much she missed Leonard Snart. 

“Goodnight,” Gideon whispers in the dark, “Leonard.”


	2. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend on making this story as sad as it currently is. I actually have plenty of fun/fluffy ideas for things Gideon and Leonard can do, but those will come later.
> 
> Friendly reminder, Calypso is a great standalone short episode and well worth watching. 
> 
> Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!

To his surprise, and great satisfaction, Leonard doesn’t wake up on the floor like he thought he would. Though he does almost flip the hammock when he tries rolling on his side as he normally would on a sturdy mattress. That sends a brief jolt of adrenaline through his body that wakes him up, cutting through the tired grogginess. 

Gideon must have sensed his waking, as the lights on the bridge begin activating around him, a warm and gentle glow that closely mimics a morning sun creeping up the horizon, but without the cast of the morning heat. 

The temporal radiation has subsided in his body, the faint tingles not there when he internally checks for their presence. That’s good, he thinks, although he still wonders if it has done anything else to his body besides keep him suspended in time for almost a thousand years. He’s not sure if it’s ironic or appropriate, but only time will tell. 

Leonard stares up at the ceiling and sighs, humming to himself whilst deep in thought. 

Day One. But of how many, is what he thinks about. How many more days he will wake up in this place?

For a few minutes, Leonard waits to see what happens. He’s expecting another panic attack, shortness of breath and weakness of limbs, but he’s surprisingly unresponsive to the facts of the matter. It still pains and frustrates him that he’ll never see the people he cares about again, but he had already accepted that when he knocked Mick out, so that same acceptance is present here. 

Besides, he’s not dead. So that’s something for him to be slightly pleased about. And after hearing that his body has been in a temporal stasis for all this time, he is relieved to finally be out of it, even if he wasn’t aware of the matter. At least it was Gideon who found him, because he dreads to imagine what other time travellers could have discovered him and what situation he would have been in then. 

“Good morning, Gideon,” Leonard drawls, sitting up and stabilising the sway of the ropes. 

No hologram forms but Gideon does bid him a good morning.

“How are you feeling today?” she asks as Leonard swings himself off the hammock and down the steps from the parlour.  
Leonard stretches his arms and legs to relieve the stiffness in his joints, “Whatever you gave me worked. I don’t feel that buzzing anymore.”  
“Wonderful to hear,” he hears the beaming smile in her voice, “Though to be on the safe side, I would like to run another scan on you by the end of the day.”

Leonard folds his arms as he stares out to the green temporal energy outside, “I suppose we should set some clock cycle.”

Leonard is aware of the relativity of time. The clock cycle matters not in the temporal zone were time doesn’t technically progress, so its only purpose is to provide some kind of order and familiarity to Leonard’s body and mind. 

“We can start now,” Gideon suggests, “What time would you like it to be at present?”

Leonard ponders for a few moments, “Eight sounds good.”

Gideon confirms his request by adjusting the lights and the temperature of the ship slightly to try and match a reasonable autumn morning condition. 

Leonard walks in silence around the bridge, stopping by the front window and observing the mass of green swirling energy. He was out there for almost 1000 years, stuck just outside the temporal zone, unconscious and unaware of everything going on. Now he’s awake, inside the Waverider which has been idly cruising through the temporal zone for practically the same amount of time. 

A dreadful thought comes to his mind, and he can’t seem to shake it. Maybe it’s because he knows it’s best to accept it, so he can move on. 

“The Legends died in 2024, didn’t they?” Leonard mutters.  
“I’d like to think not,” Gideon’s hologram forms beside him and stares out the window as well. 

Leonard turns his head to look at her profile, “But they should have come back. There is no real past and future within the temporal zone, right? It’s just one big, simultaneous, thing.”

She laughs, her hair falling across her face as she tilts her head forward, “I’m surprised you listened to Captain Hunter.”  
He smirks, “Yeah well,” he turns back to look out the window, “I actually liked the idea of time travel, before I found out we were being controlled.”

They fall silent for a few moments, Leonard’s soft breathing the only sound made between the two of them.

“I prefer to imagine that they simply couldn’t find me again,” her arms wrap over her abdomen.

Either way, their predicament remains the same. You can go to any time on Earth from the temporal zone, but it doesn’t work in the opposite scenario. The only reason it often takes so long for the Legends to get back from missions is that the Waverider continues to move in the temporal zone, so the jump ship needs to fly the difference in location. 

Which means, if they had been searching the temporal zone for the Waverider after losing contact, they would have been searching for as long as Gideon has been drifting alone on the Waverider. And if they found a way from Earth to ping the Waverider, she would have received it almost immediately after losing contact. But since she didn’t receive any contact, it means communication was never able to be re-established. 

Whatever the failure of re-establishing communication truly means for the team’s fate, the known result is the absence of their return to the Waverider.

The rules of time travel are so messy and convoluted that Leonard still has trouble understanding the logic of them. Part of him gets how it works, but for the simple fact that his perception of time is so linear, it almost gives him a throbbing headache as he tries to imagine it in a more fluid dynamic.

“Shall I make you breakfast before we finish the tour?” Gideon suggests with a forced smile that Leonard doesn’t think sits quite right on her face. 

But finishing the tour seems like a great way at distracting them from the depressing nature of time travel.

Leonard smiles and gestures for her to lead the way.

XXX

“Expired. Out of date. Hold on. Nope, that’s expired too,” Leonard twists the cap off one of the jars and reels back his head as the pungent smell wafts into his nose, “God, that is bad.”

Leonard hastily twists the cap back on before throwing it down the garbage chute, along with six other containers of food. Gideon was preparing him pancakes, synthetic of course, so Leonard was hoping there was syrup or honey available in one of the cupboards here. There was syrup, but considering it was over 900 years old, it had gone rock solid and the smell was revolting.

“My apologies, Leonard,” Gideon laughs from her spot by the wall as she watches him scrounge through the cupboards, “I haven’t exactly been able to clear out the old stock.”

“Suppose any honey you create will be synthetic too?” Leonard drawls defeatedly, closing the cupboard shut and frowning.  
“Your assumption is correct, I’m afraid,” Gideon replies apologetically, "Fresh food is hard to find after almost 1000 years." 

A few minutes later, the food maker dings to let Leonard know his breakfast is ready.

“It’s a bit hot,” Gideon warns, as Leonard presses his finger to test the texture of the pancake. 

Leonard places the plate of pancakes on the bench behind him and looks through another set of cupboards. A lot of it is just containers, which Leonard realises is all you need when the ship is capable of making any food you want. 

As Leonard opens one cupboard above the rack of spices on the wall, he smirks. Sitting inside the cupboard, are a dozen silver sealed bags with the words ‘Coffee Beans’ written on the package. Leonard grabs one bag and holds it, ripping open the top of the packet and taking in the aroma. 

“These beans come from the year 2566,” Gideon informs.  
Leonard holds it out in front of him and reads the information on the back of the silver packet, humming to himself when he catches the date, “They don’t smell stale.”

Gideon nods, “The technology used in those packets prevents them from going off, but as long as the package remains absolutely sealed. The jars,” she motions with her head to the garbage chute he had thrown them down moments ago, “did not share the same technology, and thus were not able to preserve their contents.”  
“That is very useful to know,” he drawls, walking over to the coffee machine and flipping open the top of the machine and pouring the contents of the bag into it. 

Leonard sets the machine to begin grinding up the coffee and walks back over to his cooling pancakes and begins taking small bites out of them, trying very hard to not focus on the synthetic nature of the food. He imagines the last time he had pancakes, the way the honey would practically melt into the soft food, coating it in a sweet nectary taste. At least with those thoughts in his head, he can find some enjoyment in the synthetic breakfast. 

Halfway into his breakfast, the coffee machine dings and Leonard watches as the brown liquid begins pouring into the cup before cutting off just shy of the brim. With an eager look, he walks over and retrieves the drink. He closes his eyes and brings the cup under his nose, taking in that burnt smell which Leonard is already fantasising about the following taste. With a few gentle breaths, he blows away some of the steam before taking a sip and relishing in the taste as the liquid goes down the back of his throat. 

When he opens his eyes, he finds himself the subject of Gideon’s humoured gaze, who he realises has been watching his little show of appreciation to the coffee. 

“Shall I give you two the room?” Gideon teases, unfolding her arms and grinning devilishly at him.  
Leonard sneers at her taunt, adding a chuckle on the end, “You’re missing out. Bet an AI never got to taste coffee before.”

“I’m sure I am,” she tries to mimic his drawl, but her British accent makes it significantly harder to replicate, “And actually,” Gideon pushes herself off the wall and steps closer to Leonard, “The correct term for me is now ASI.”

His brows furrow and he tilts his head at her, silently requesting her to elaborate on the acronym. 

“Artificial superintelligence,” Gideon replies quite smugly, head tilted back with her chin pointing out, a smirk plastered over her face.  
Leonard cocks an eyebrow and props his hip against the galley’s counter, “Ooo, scary,” he drawls with a grin, “Got any secret plans for eradicating human life or making us all pledge our allegiance to you?” 

Gideon lets out a warm laugh and steps up to Leonard, “It wouldn’t be much of a secret if I told you.”

Leonard rolls his eyes as Gideon brushes a holographic hand over his head and pretends to ruffle his hair. He takes another sip of his coffee before walking straight through Gideon’s hologram and back to the pancakes. An action resulting in a gentle and beautiful laugh resonating through the galley, which Leonard can’t help but feel comforted by the sound of. 

When he learnt of their joined fate, Leonard was sceptical as to how having an AI companion as his only source of interaction would be. He still remembers her clearly as the snarky AI who always made life or death situations sound all warm and fuzzy with that tone of hers. And while he suspects she could still pull that off, the Gideon all around him now is so much more than what he remembers.

Already, in just the short amount of time he’s been back on this ship, all that scepticism has vanished the more he and Gideon talk. Something about her improved personality makes him feel relieved that it was her who found him. 

XXX

“Welcome to hydroponics,” Gideon throws her arms out in the direction of the open room in front of them. 

Leonard crosses the barrier of the doorway, his coffee still in his hand, and nods as he takes in the view. 

“It’s a garden,” Leonard drawls, sweeping his gaze across the various different plants and greenery.  
Gideon slumps her shoulders, disappointed at how simple his view of the room is, “It’s more than just a garden, Leonard. It is the source of the ship’s oxygen supply.”

“Oxygen supply or not, I still see pink flowers,” he tilts his head to the wall of the room which has poles at set intervals, each with various flowers curling up towards the roof.

His tone makes it clear of his disapproval towards the bright pink flowers along the wall. There are other plants and flowers around the room, some vibrant colours, but most consist of just green leaves. 

“Oh, those ones?” a small hum coming from the hologram, “Captain Lance picked those flowers herself,” she informs with a faux casualness of her British accent, “They are one of her favourites.”

What a manipulative little ASI. Leonard can’t help but smirk and raise an intrigued eyebrow at her. 

“Are you pulling the Sara card on me? Thinking that just because Sara likes those flowers, I’ll suddenly start liking these flowers?” Leonard stands up straight and stares down the ASI, “What do you take me for? A high-schooler?”

“No,” she responds with an unconvincing tone, hands over her stomach as she pretends to be interested in the ceiling, “But, is it working?”

A few moments of silence pass between them, then Leonard sighs defeatedly, “Yeah.”

Gideon suppresses a pleased smile but makes eye contact. There’s a knowing look on her face, and he’s reminded that Gideon witnessed his confession to the assassin and that she knows how much he likes Sara. 

“Alright. Go on,” Leonard drawls, taking a sip from his coffee, “tell me what’s so special about these plants then.”

Dropping the stubborn disinterest of the room, Leonard tries to picture Sara standing here and actively deciding that this room needs some pink flowers. It’s difficult for him to imagine it, but then again, time changes people, so maybe the lost assassin, turned captain of the Waverider, developed an interest for pink flowers. Or maybe, she always liked them and kept it to herself. 

Gideon goes on to explain how the plants have been genetically modified to improve the efficiency of taking in carbon dioxide and producing oxygen. This new oxygen is then gathered by the vents and then transferred through the ship to the life support systems which distributes the new oxygen and cycles the old carbon dioxide back into the hydroponics for recycling. 

Leonard just sips his coffee and watches Gideon’s passionate expressions and gestures as she begins detailing the sciences of genetically modifying plants and whatever minerals and vitamins are contained in the water that keep these plants alive for as long they have been. 

Sometimes, he thinks he understands what Gideon is saying, he knows vitamins are good for the plants, but then she loses him a sentence later when she mentions something about cellular biology. But no matter what, Leonard has no intention of letting her stop, because honestly, he thinks that she needs this moment. A moment where she can talk freely about something she’s passionate towards. He doubts she got a chance in the last 1000 years. 

Leonard understands loneliness, and what it can do to a person. The fact that Gideon has remained strong this entire time, still able to hold onto hope that the Legends didn’t die in 2024, speaks volumes of her strength. And now that it’s just the two of them, he’ll happily let Gideon ramble on about genetically modified plants and water, regardless of how mindboggling it is to him. 

XXX

Leonard drops quite unceremoniously onto the couch in the parlour. His breathing is heavy and his legs ache with the muscle burns. He remembers an old thigh injury he got a few years ago during a failed heist, but he doesn’t feel it, so he suspects it was healed when Gideon fixed his body. 

“It’s good for your first attempt, Leonard,” Gideon tries to put on an assuring tone, “Besides, you were in a coma up until yesterday.”

His head turns on the couch and looks at the hologram of Gideon sitting on his hammock as if it were simply a chair. For a moment, he’s baffled at how that works, but then remembers that holograms have no weight to them. 

“And you said they do this almost every day?” Leonard asks, placing his hands flat on his head as he controls his breathing. 

Maybe he pushed himself a bit too far for his first run. 

“Captain Lance holds the record,” Gideon says with a smile, “Improving her time is one of her favourite pastimes.”

This record is in relation to a time trial that Gideon informed Leonard of when they were nearing the end of the tour. 

The Waverider was fitted out with a dedicated gym and training area, as too many accidents in the cargo occurred and the hatch could only take so much damage. Leonard asks Gideon to explain later on how an accident in the cargo bay led to samurais, ninjas and Raymond losing his suit. 

As for the time trial, it is a challenge to go from one side of the ship to the other, with the bridge being the finish line. Fastest route and time win. Supersuits and powers get a separate leader board, which Wally has the leading position. Although Leonard argued that allowing a speedster into a race was akin to allowing a hacker into a gaming tournament. 

“You beat the time of Gary Green,” Gideon adds supportively, or tries to sound so at least.  
Leonard’s eyes widen with relief, “Oh that’s good.”  
A regretful smile forms on her face, “He was in last position.”

Leonard makes a disheartened grunt and flops to his side, lying down on the couch and dangling his legs over the armrest. 

“Perseverance, Leonard. You will improve with time,” the grin on her face almost audible in the way she speaks.  
Leonard lets out a tired laugh, “You offering to be my coach, Gideon?”  
Gideon looks down at her body and phases a holographic arm through her stomach, “I can try. Although I would think being a hologram would make certain activities quite impossible.”

“We’ll adjust the regimen,” Leonard drawls, dismissing the concern, “Not like I expected to get into a sparring match with you anyway.”  
Gideon nods, standing tall and straight with her arms clasped in front of her chest, “Well then, I will gladly be your coach, Leonard.”

XXX

“So, Heywood,” Leonard swallows a bite of his food, “had what condition again?”  
“He was a haemophiliac,” Gideon answers.  
He clicks his fingers as he remembers, “That’s the blood clot problem, isn’t it?”

It was dinner, according to their new clock cycle. Leonard took a quick nap after his first attempt at the time trial, then spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the bridge with Gideon just talking. Leonard had asked if the team’s mission ended with them successfully rescuing Rip’s wife and son. It was disheartening to hear how Savage still killed them in the end. 

His stomach grumbling was the only reason they had stopped and moved to the galley. Now they were resuming their previous conversation, which was the team’s disastrous missions with the Justice Society of America.

“After being hit by a bomb with his grandfather while fleeing from a Nazi berserker, Dr Palmer used a modified version of the Nazi enhancement serum to stabilise Dr Heywood,” Gideon explains, watching the archived footage in her internal database, “It had the subsequent effect of curing his haemophilia and providing him with the ability to turn his skin into an organic steel.”

Leonard stares at her with open eyes, his fork halfway between his plate and his mouth before he lowers it and shakes his head, “How long had I been gone by then?”  
Gideon presses her lips together, “Time isn’t so straightforward, Leonard. We had only been operating for six months before the Waverider had been hit by an atomic bomb and everyone was time scattered, spending varying times in different periods of history. I had been inactive for almost 70 years at the bottom of the ocean before Dr Heywood found us.”

Leonard shakes his head in disbelief, “You realise how that all sounds right?”  
Gideon shrugs and she looks to the roof as she ponders on the absurdity of her tale, “I think it’s quite mundane compared to what else the Legends have gotten up to. And this was before Beeboo was discovered.”

Leonard does not even try to imagine what kind of hijinks had to have been going on in this ship for Nazi berserkers and serums that give people organic steel powers to be considered mundane. Also what the hell is a Beeboo? Actually, Leonard decides he doesn’t want to find out. Whatever a Beeboo is, Leonard is pretty sure he can live without know about it. 

“I’m not sure if I should be glad or disappointed I missed out,” Leonard drawls, returning to his food. 

Gideon smiles, “You would have enjoyed yourself, Leonard. Mr Rory certainly did, as much as he protests to the fact.”  
“How was he?” Leonard asks with sincerity, “After being Chronos for so long.”

Gideon moves from the wall and approaches the other side of the galley bench to Leonard, her gaze focusing upwards, “Mr Rory has a strong will. It was not easy, but he worked hard to put Chronos behind him and forget everything the Time Master’s made him do.”

“Did he hate me?” 

Gideon looks from the roof back to Snart, observing his resigned expression. She can tell that he’s trying not to let his feelings slip through. Much like Mr Rory, and Captain Lance. She remembers them being an interesting trio together. 

“Yes,” Gideon answers truthfully, “He hated you for months. Infuriated that you stole his opportunity for getting revenge on the Time Masters. So, that anger was channelled into fixing the timeline. Doing missions helped, and after his loathing for you subsided, that is when he and Captain Lance visited your sister and broke the news.”

Snart takes a slow bite of his food, staring past Gideon’s shoulder as he tries to imagine the anger that had been coursing through his former partner for all those months. Mick hating him is exactly how he imagined it would be when he slammed the butt of his gun against the pyro’s head. It was cruel and unfair to Mick, acting without giving the pyro a chance to even agree to the plan. 

Mick never would have agreed to Leonard’s plan anyway, which is exactly why Leonard needed to do it.

And as the memory of him knocking Mick out continues, his thoughts drift to the blonde. 

“And Sara?” his voice is soft, “I figure I wasn’t in her good graces for a while too.”

Guilt has been building up in him over the course of the day at how long it’s taken him to ask about Sara. Maybe it was the fear that he’d have to know that she hated him just as much as Mick did. And while he could comfortably accept Mick hating him for what he did, trying to accept that Sara shared that same hate wasn’t as easy. Even if he knows he definitely deserves, especially after threatening her with the cold gun. 

“Your death was tolling on her,” Gideon replies solemnly, “And it was not helped that she learnt of her sister’s death just days later.”  
“What?” Leonard’s gaze snaps to Gideon with a look of shock, “Her sister died as well?”

Gideon nods, “After the explosion of the Oculus, Vandal Savage eluded us, and Captain Hunter returned the rest of the team back to 2016, months later than when he recruited you. In that time, Laurel Lance was killed by Damien Darhk. Captain Lance had returned home with the intent of grieving your death, but was instead faced with the matter of her own sister’s.”

“Shit,” Leonard mumbles, rubbing his hand along his jaw as he stares off at the wall behind Gideon. 

Part of him thinks that maybe he was acting selfishly when he knocked Mick out and took over the spot by the Oculus. He can tell himself that he was doing it for the others all he wants, but the truth is that he took over the situation his own way. He forced Sara’s hand by knocking out Mick and ordering her to carry the pyro back to safety, all the while leaving Leonard to his fate. Being considerate of how his actions would affect others was always something he struggled to get right. 

An uncomfortable tightness forms in his stomach. It’s guilt. Something he’s quite usually good at avoiding. Leonard never wanted to hurt Sara, but his sacrifice did just that. And to learn that his death wasn’t the only pain inflicted upon Sara, tore at him.

“You didn’t know,” Gideon tries to assure him, “And Captain Lance would never wish for you to take back your sacrifice just for her sake. Not back then. Not ever.”

Leonard flicks his gaze back and forth from Gideon, his mind racing with thoughts as he tries to imagine the pain Sara would have been going through. It couldn’t have been easy. As odd as it sounds to his mind, the assassin did care about him, and he didn’t need their final kiss to be the proof of it. Two people that she cared for had died in such close proximity of each other, and he can’t imagine the effects being anything less than devastating. 

“It was challenging on her,” Gideon continues, “coping with the deaths of both yourself and her sister’s. Your sacrifice was easier for her to accept. She was able to understand that there no possibility of going back in time and saving you from the explosion. But her sister, was another matter, and it was harder for Captain Lance to come to terms with not going back in time and saving her sister."

“Why couldn’t she?” Leonard tilts his head ever so slightly.  
Gideon’s expression goes soft, “Because doing so would condemn her to the same fate, along with her father.”

Over the course of the next few minutes, Leonard listens as Gideon explains Sara's crusade against Damien Darhk. How she would spend countless days and nights in the library, using Gideon database to find her sister’s killer. 

Deciding that it feels out of place for him to be so privy to the details of Sara’s methods of grieving, Leonard simply asks Gideon for assurance that it at least worked out for Sara in the end. Gideon provides him with that assurance, telling him that with time, Sara was able to accept the death of her sister and could comfortably move on with her own life. 

It is inspiring in a way to Leonard, that Sara was able to muster the strength and willpower to move on after such a terrible act. Placing himself in Sara’s position for a moment, he tries to imagine what his life would be like if his father had indeed blown up Lisa’s head with the bomb. Would he spiral out of control, leaving a path of destruction in his wake? Would all that anger send him on a different path? Would that prevent him from ever stepping aboard the Waverider and meeting Sara? 

Something glows by his arms, and he catches the movement of Gideon’s holographic hand reaching out and covering the top of his own. His skin doesn’t register any touch, and maybe that makes it easier for him. Physical touches were always difficult for him, the pressure of someone else’s skin against his own. That doesn’t occur here, not with the hologram, and it sparks a comforting sense in him.

“Thank you,” he says when his gaze meets her, “for telling me about them.”  
Her smile is warm, and there is a rosy colour to her cheeks, “You inspired them both to be better people. To be better Legends.”

With his appetite gone, Leonard slides his hand out from Gideon’s hologram and puts the untouched remains of his dinner in the recycler before heading to the door. He feels her watching him the entire way. The lights of the outer corridor glow brighter as Leonard opens the door of the galley. 

“Time to see whether all that temporal radiation gave me cancer or something,” Leonard says dryly, an emotionally tired expression on his face.

A morbid joke, he must admit, but at least Gideon gives him a small smile before her hologram disappears from the bench and reappears down the corridor. 

XXX

The medical cuff around his arm vibrates as the needle in his arm injects him with a blue liquid. A wave of heat courses through his body from his head to his feet, almost like how he woke up the first time on this ship. It passes in a few seconds, and Leonard lets out a long exhale. A few minutes later, the monitor beside him beeps and Gideon’s hologram forms beside him. 

“Congratulations, Leonard,” Gideon smiles, staring at the monitor which is flicking through different menus without her even touching it. 

In the time it takes before his mind remembers that Gideon has full control of the ship and all its systems, he almost believes that she developed telekinesis. When the truth of reality returns his mind, he feels a tinge of disappointment at the lack of telekinetic abilities by his ASI companion. 

“I detect no abnormalities within your body,” the screen flickers off and the cuff around his arm shuts down and retracts the needle.  
Leonard grunts as he frees his arm and sits up in the medical bed, “Yay,” he responds with a faux enthusiasm, “Nice to know I get to keep my hair.”

A smirk forms on Gideon’s face, “With it being so short, I doubt you would notice the difference.”

With an exaggerated look of hurt and offence on his face, Leonard brushes his buzzcut hair with his hand, “Hey, I like my hair. I would be very disappointed if I didn’t have it.”  
“Well it’s a good thing you’re keeping it,” Gideon adds, turning away from Leonard and walking over to one of the cabinets, “I happen to think that style suits you.”

Icy eyes stare at Gideon’s holographic back, watching as she seemingly looks through all the closed cupboard doors. He doesn’t verbally respond, but a small smile forms on his face as his mind replays the genuine tone of the compliment. 

“Have you ever changed outfits? Or do you stick to the same black dress?” Leonard asks, lettings his eyes examine the black dress that Gideon still wears. 

It becomes a challenge trying not to focus too much on the attractiveness of Gideon’s physique whilst intending to examine only the dress. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t find Gideon’s holographic body a sight of beauty and strength. 

The holographic brunette in question turns around and shrugs, “I have no need for changing outfits.”  
Leonard folds his arms over his chest and sighs, “And I have no need for robbing banks,” he drawls, “But I do it anyway because I want to.”

Gideon nods, hair falling in front of her shoulders, “I understand your analogy, Leonard, but like I said, I have no need for different outfits. I do not receive the warmth or comfort from various outfits as humans like yourself would. My body is not real, and therefore, I only need this simple outfit.”

Leonard pushes himself off the bed and stands by it, his hip propped against the corner, “Well, if you ever do change outfit,” his gaze shifts between his hand and Gideon, “I’m sure you’ll look splendid in it.”

Once again, Leonard becomes witness to the sight of Gideon’s cheeks blushing. She ducks her head, trying to hide the way her face lights up with warmth and happiness. Her previously idle hands rub together over her chest as she tries not to look so flustered.

“Thank you, Leonard,” she responds with an embarrassed whisper, brushing back her hair as she returns her gaze to him. 

“Now,” Leonard claps his hands together loudly, shifting the tone of the room, much to Gideon’s relief, “Speaking of changing outfits, I’m going to have a shower, which means I need you to fabricate me some more clothes.”

Everything he was wearing now was made from Gideon’s fabricator, which unlike the food maker, closely replicates the feel of its real clothing counterpart. Considering that the clothing he was wearing at the time of the Oculus explosion was burnt away, and it had been years since his death before the Legends disappeared, he didn’t have many options for clothing when he woke up. 

Gideon’s posture straightens, and she nods enthusiastically, “I will have them prepared for you when you get there. And as for your outfit, I think I might have something you might like.”

XXX

“Huh,” Leonard stares into the box and can’t help but be surprised at the sight, “They kept it after all this time.”  
“It was something I ensured remained on the ship after the Time Bureau commandeered the Waverider,” Gideon’s voice comes from behind him, “I knew it had sentimental value to the team.”

Folded neatly in the bottom of the box, with a set of goggles resting squarely in the middle of it, is his dark blue parka, detachable fur hood and all. A tentative hand reaches into the box and brushes against the fabric of the parka, old and worn, just how he remembered it. Wrapping his fingers around the frame of his goggles, he pulls it out and stares at his reflection in the armoured glass. Scratch marks line the reflective surface, a thumbprint smudge on the left lens distorting his reflection. 

With his other hand, Leonard reaches in again and pulls out his parka by the hood, letting it dangle in the air in front of him as he inspects it. The fur hood attaches to the collar of the parka at two points, and with familiar ease, Leonard detaches it and separates them before attaching it again. 

“I was wearing the other one when I blew up, wasn’t I?” Leonard asks the hologram of Gideon behind him, who is enjoying the sight of Leonard reuniting with his former outfit.  
“That is correct,” Gideon answers, crossing her arms over her chest, “A shame really, considering I put a lot of time into making it match your exact specifications.”

The annoyed British tone earns a chuckle from Leonard, as he casts a look of his shoulder and grins, “Sorry, I’ll make sure to remember that next time.”

The parka is his hands now was the one he wore in Central City, when he was still a pain in the Flash’s ass. After boarding the Waverider and being shown the level of detail of the clothing fabricator, Leonard had the idea of improving his parka with the help of Gideon. That was a very long and strenuous night trying to get the new parka to fit exactly how Leonard wanted it. 

Leonard opens the parka up and rubs his hands along the soft fabric on the inside, a familiar stitching to cover up a bullet hole just under the right breast. He remembers that being a particularly close call for himself. 

Folding it over his arm, Leonard looks back into the back and then around the vicinity of the cargo bay, “Where’s my gun? Sara had it with her when she carried Mick back to the ship.”  
Gideon makes a clicking sound with her mouth as she walks around the box, “Also correct, but after Dr Palmer lost his suit, he used your weapon.”

“Boy scout used my cold gun?” Leonard drawls, raising a sceptical eyebrow, “Who let him do that?”  
“It was Mr Rory’s decision,” her hologram leans against the other side of the container from Leonard, “Mr Rory had intended for Dr Palmer to become more like you, and to build some confidence in his own abilities after losing his A.T.O.M. suit. It was short-lived, as they both came to realise there was no replacing you, Leonard. But it did provide Dr Palmer with the confidence in his own abilities.”

Leonard presses his lips together in a firm line, nodding as he listens to Gideon’s story. The idea that Raymond and Mick could form a bond after his death was something Leonard had intended to a certain degree, even if it was something small and simple as just watching each other’s back out on the field. Although, now that he’s heard what really happened after his death, he’s not entirely surprised it turned out that way.

“So what happened to my gun?”  
Gideon has reluctant look on her face,” Dr Palmer may have, with noble intentions I assure you, taken apart your weapon in order to stop a bomb from exploding in the White House during a dinner which would mark the end of the Cold War between the USA and the USSR.”

“Oh, is that all?” Leonard drawls, propping his arm against the edge of the box and tilting his head at Gideon.  
Gideon stifles a laugh and forms a smirk that matches the one on his face, “Seems fitting that your weapon also makes a sacrifice like its owner. Except it stopped a bomb.”

“Ouch,” Leonard places a hand over his heart and wears an expression of faux hurt as he pushes away from the box and closes the lid. 

Gideon disappears from the box and reappears back at the top of the stairs leading out of the cargo bay, which Leonard begins heading up now. With his parka still folded over one arm, and his goggles dangling in his grip, Leonard strides up the stairs and begins walking in pace with Gideon back towards the bridge. 

“Don’t worry, Leonard,” Gideon’s warm tone speaks out to him, “Your weapon may be replaceable, but you most certainly are not.”

He looks at her through the corner of his eyes as they continue walking down the corridors of the ship. 

“Same could be said for you, Gideon,” Leonard responds in a serious tone.

And he means that. Stuck on this ship for who knows how long, Leonard couldn’t imagine coexisting with some other artificial intelligence aside from Gideon. The Waverider just wouldn’t be the same without her. Even if she’s a completely evolved version of herself to what he remembers, probably even to what the Legends remember of her, there’s a part of her core personality and character that Leonard finds familiar and makes him feel comfortable around her. Something he doesn’t think any other AI, or ASI, would be able to come close to. 

Gideon’s hologram dissipates as the steel doors to the bridge open with a hiss, and the lights inside slowly glow brighter as Leonard enters. The glass at the front of the ship continues to paint the picture of the landscape that he figures he better get used to. Green energy continues to swirl outside, and the more Leonard stares at it, the more he understands the analogy of it being considered a river. 

Ducking under the hammock hanging between the entrance frame of the parlour, Leonard places his parka and goggles over the arm of the lounge chair and begins kicking off his shoes. Cold metal connects with the bottom of his feat, sending the slightest of shivers through his body, sensations that Leonard is more than comfortable with. 

Grunting probably more exaggeratedly than he needs he needs to, Leonard clambers himself into the hammock and lets the rocking momentum come to a rest as he adjusts the small pillow he lifted from the couch and makes himself comfortable. 

The lights around the edges of the bridge start going out, closing in like a contracting circle until it’s just the single light above him emitting an orange hue on the steel of the hull and frame. 

“Gideon,” Leonard says calmly.  
“Yes, Leonard?” her quiet voice echoes from the roof. 

Leonard turns his head towards the roof, trying to guess where one of her many sensors are, “Thank you, for today. It was good to hear about the team.”  
“You’re very welcome, Leonard,” Gideon’s responds. 

A few moments of silence pass between them before Leonard speaks again.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Leonard says firmly, “You don’t have to pretend that you didn’t just spend the last thousand years all by yourself.”

He remembers the way Gideon seemed so happy and excited to just ramble on about the hydroponics system, how she allowed herself to get so passionate about it. He wants to see more of that if he’s being honest with himself. It seemed so human and real, that it had its own beauty to it.

“I don’t want you putting on a good face just to look after me. You’re not alone anymore. We’re in this situation together, Gideon,” Leonard stares up at the ceiling. 

The roof is silent for a few moments, and Leonard’s eyes dart around the ceiling as somehow he could find Gideon. 

“Thank you, Leonard,” Gideon’s voice comes from above him, “Good night.”  
Leonard smiles and closes his eyes, tucking an arm behind his head as he presses into the hammock, “Good night, Gideon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is looking forward to more of this pairing. I know that it's practically non-existent on here. I certainly didn't consider it until I watched Calypso. 
> 
> It might be a while before the next chapter comes out. Got a bunch of uni work to get done in the next three days, and I'm still writing Kidnap Job. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, and good night.


	3. Day Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've created an interesting emotional circumstance here. A criminal who's had a lifetime of having his emotions twisted and damaged, and an ASI who has all these emotions and never used or experienced them before (And then just locked them into a ship). 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Unlike the previous morning, Leonard remains in the centre of the hammock as he wakes, preventing a repeat of almost flipping out the side. A soft light reaches through his eyelids, and the cool temperature surrounding him provides the comfortable familiarity of being in one of his warehouses during the cooler parts of the years. 

Opening his eyes, reality returns and he stares up the top of the frame of the parlour. 

“Good morning Leonard,” Gideon’s voice comes from above.  
“Mornin’ Gideon,” Leonard drawls tiredly as he rubs a hand over his eyes and clears them. 

A few minutes pass as Leonard fully wakes himself up before swinging out of the hammock and landing on his feet. Standing inside the parlour, Leonard twists his body left and right, getting the stiffness out of his spine. A grunt of relief and the soft popping in his back are the only sounds that fill the parlour. 

The monitor embedded into the wall is simply a black screen, sticking out against the brown vintage colour scheme. He remembers it used to display a bunch of statistics and a weird assortment of blue and red shapes that Leonard hadn’t interpreted the meaning of. 

Draped over the armrest of the couch, just as he left it the previous evening, are his old parka and goggles. He walks past them, his hand brushing against the lens briefly before snatching his hand back to his person. To him, it had only been a few days since he last wore them, but it had really been several lifetimes ago. He’s still surprised they’ve been so well preserved. 

Leonard walks around the wooden table in a clockwise fashion, head tilted down as his eyes scan the various papers and books. Carefully, he selects one document and picks it up by the corner, the bristle thin paper creasing around his grip point. 

It has an old airy smell to it as he brings it up to his nose. After all these centuries, Leonard had been internally fearing that there was going to hives of mould that had formed all over the ship. It pleases him greatly to learn that life support functions work so well. It's only a shame he can’t say the same about the food that he had to throw away yesterday.

A large globe sits by the entrance of the parlour, and Leonard reaches out and uses the tips of his fingers to spin it. It creaks loudly as it rotates, far from the smooth motion it used to have when he would annoy Rip by spinning it incessantly during important team meetings. 

The big difference that he actually likes about what he finds in this room from what he remembers, is the vast number of trinkets and objects that actually look valuable now. For a vintage time traveller, Leonard was sorely disappointed to find that Rip had almost nothing valuable or interesting that was worth stealing. Now, he’s practically surrounded by all the trinkets he could want. 

Sitting on the top of a cabinet is a golden chalice and, a silver necklace with pearls wrapped in platinum bands inside a glass container. A treasure chest is pushed against the wall near the monitor. On the small side table is a weird looking clock that Leonard has the faintest recognition of. 

In a T-like shape, two separate rings represent the hours and the minutes of the clock. Cogs, gears and weights suspended with string by the ends of the arms form the mechanism that makes the clock operate. 

The only downside to all of this, being surrounded by all these interesting and valuable objects, is that he can’t exactly steal them. When he joined the Legends with Rip, the notion of stealing something from the Waverider meant taking it back with him to Central City, where he would either fence it off for a big pile of cash, or stash it in a hideout if he liked it enough. 

That’s not a possibility in Leonard’s situation. 

The thief is stuck in a situation where he’s surrounded by all these valuable items, and yet the concept of stealing is pointless now. 

Disappointed, Leonard walks over to the Renaissance clock and twists the dial, setting off the mechanism that begins turning the hands of the clock. 

“That was made by Leonardo da Vinci,” Gideon’s announces.  
Leonard clicks his fingers, “Thought I recognised the design,” he stares it carefully, examining it, “I didn’t think he could make one. Something about not having the right rocks or pieces.”

“That is correct,” Gideon confirms, “Da Vinci did not have the necessary components to make it in the Renaissance era. Not until he met the Legends.”  
Leonard chuckles, “Let me guess. Someone tried to steal the Mona Lisa from da Vinci’s easel?”

He remembers making that suggestion to Mick when he was persuading the pyro to join Rip’s mission after that night on the rooftop. 

A soft laugh resonates around him, “Actually, no. Da Vinci simply got bored with the painting before the final version and it never became a famous artwork. The Legends had to be his muse and inspire him to continue making designs and artworks, eventually motivating him enough to complete the painting.”

“Sounds like an interesting mission,” he drawls, eyes still fixed on the mechanism of the clock as the weights slowly move up and down.  
“It was,” Gideon responds, “Although Dr Palmer accidentally inspired da Vinci with the designs for a robotic knight after revealing his A.T.O.M. suit. The Legends had to make sure that those designs were not left to history.”

“And the clock?” gesturing with his hand to the device in front of him.  
“Ms Tomaz simply asked him to make it because she wanted one. She simply had to provide him with the pieces.”

Leonard nods and sticks his finger against the mechanism, making the small gears come to a halt and stop altogether. With that, Leonard walks out of the parlour, ducking under the hammock and trotting down the steps before taking a left and heading for the exit of the bridge. 

The walk to the galley is quiet, almost silent except for the sound of Leonard’s feet echoing against the cold floor. Not even the lights that turn on to illuminate Leonard’s path make a noise. It all seems so eerie to him, as if being in some haunted mansion. Except it’s a time ship, and the resident ghost is actually a friendly ASI he once knew. But he still sees some similarity in the setting of this place. 

“Gideon, you’re a saint,” he drawls with appreciation as soon as he enters the galley. 

The coffee machine is blinking at him, waiting for a cup to be placed under the nozzle. A soft giggle echoes around him, eliciting a faint smile on his lips as he walks over to the cupboards and finds a cup. 

Placing the cup underneath the nozzle, Leonard taps the button and watches as the freshly brewed coffee drains into the cup, cutting off millimetres from the rim. 

The burning taste of freshly ground beans goes down his throat with a moan of satisfaction. There had been a time where he would never make that noise, with the possibility of Kendra or Raymond, or Sara possibly overhearing him. He had a feeling that such a sound would be adverse to his cold personality. 

“And what would the sinner like for breakfast?” Gideon asks with a hint of teasing in her tone at her choice of name.

Leonard smirks at the ceiling and rolls his eyes before making a request for something simple and light. A few minutes later, the food processor dings and Leonard grabs the bowl out from the machine and walks over to the bench and sits down. 

“We’re going to have a problem,” he says, taking another sip of his coffee, “I’m going to run out coffee soon.”  
“You could always ration it, Leonard,” Gideon responds dryly.  
He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “That’s not going to work. Need a better solution.”

“It is possible to grow your own beans,” Gideon suggests, “The seeds can easily be modified to grow alongside the hydroponics, although I can’t promise a harvest sooner than 11 months.”

Leonard frowns at the ceiling, “That’s too long.”

He hears a sigh, “I could always clone them.”  
That causes an eyebrow to raise, “Clone them you say? What kind are we talking about here?”  
“Since they come from more technologically advanced time periods, they were designed with the capabilities to have their atomic composition replicated through cloning procedures,” Gideon answers quite casually, “Unlike the replicator, they will retain their tastes.”

“Should have led with that,” Leonard drawls, taking another sip of the coffee before another spoonful of his cereal.  
He can hear the smile in her tone as she responds, “I thought I could persuade you to take up an interest in agriculture.”

“Funny,” he responds sarcastically. 

They fall silent while Leonard finishes the rest of his cereal. When he’s done and put the empty bowl into the chute Gideon instructs him to use, he takes his cup and walks over to the large monitor by the circular table where the Legends would share their meal. It too is currently inactive, displaying nothing and leaving a dark screen embedded in the wall. 

“Gideon, bring up the ship’s status please,” he requests, focusing on the screen as it lights up. 

The contents of the screen shift around before an image of the Waverider appears along with a series of reports that scroll along the side. 

“What are you looking for?” Gideon asks.  
Leonard tilts his head as he taps at the reactor section of the Waverider, bringing up further details, “Figure I should start looking after you.”

“You wish to perform maintenance?” Gideon sounds surprised and entirely unsuspecting of what he is offering.  
Her tone causes him to flick his gaze up past his lashes, “Ouch.”

Gideon sighs again, “I didn’t mean it like that Leonard,” she apologises, “I simply mean that maintenance does not require your physical labour. I have automated systems which can perform the standard maintenance procedures.”

“And what about the non-standard procedures. Or what happens if those automated systems suddenly don’t work. Do you have another automated system for the automated systems?” Leonard crosses his arm, the bottom of his cup resting against the crook of his bent elbow.  
“I don’t wish to trouble you, Leonard,” Gideon replies firmly, knowing that his point is valid to an extent.

She doesn’t tell him about the automated system that actually does look after the other automated systems and ensure they remain active. And if she ever reaches a point where that automated system is experiencing problems, then they would have far bigger problems to worry about. 

“Gideon, I’m offering because I want to do it,” he responds with a soft tone, “Besides, this thief needs something to keep his hands busy with. Tinkering around with you sounds like a great method of relief.”

“That doesn’t exactly strike me with a bode of confidence, Leonard,” Gideon responds in a way where he can almost perfectly imagine her with crossed arms and an unimpressed expression on her face. 

“What’s the matter, Gideon?” he teases, head tilted up at the ceiling with a toothy smirk, “I assure you I’m very talented with my hands.”

A grunt, which resembles the sound that frequently derives from Sara when he makes one his overly suggestive remarks, comes from the ceiling. He imagines the ASI probably picked up on that response from her captain. With the variety of individuals that make up the Legends, he wonders what pieces of their personality that Gideon has picked up over those years and chosen to mould her evolved ASI state around. He suspects he could simply ask, but that wouldn’t fun or meaningful in any sense. 

Little does he know that the ASI is grateful he can’t see her hologram right now, which would be blushing bright red about now.

“If you insist,” Gideon concedes, “But you will read every set of instruction before I let you operate on any my components, and I mean every.”  
Leonards nods and raises a gentle hand, “Sounds fair. Seems like I’ve got some reading to do.”

XXX

Out of all the words in her database, she can’t seem to decide on what word best suits the scene in front of her. 

Sitting in the workshop, twisted slightly on the chair so that one foot is on the seat while the other is stretched out on the floor, reading instructions on a hand-held tablet, is Leonard Snart. In front of him is an assortment of cables, tools, electrical components, spare parts and everything else Leonard needs to know the basics of before he even begins taking a look inside Gideon and the Waverider. All of it has been neatly laid out, which took him the better half of an hour to do alone. And that's just the stuff small enough to even fit on the table. 

It’s quiet, except for when Leonard examines a piece and rattles it in his hand as he reads its details on the tablet. There is a calmness to his person that she can’t stop herself from revelling and soaking in.

Over the years, as a result of being the omnipresent AI that catalogues every single moment of the Waverider and adapts it into the algorithm that subsequently dictates how she interacts with the team, she has learnt something about the way people wear masks around others or by themselves. At first, when she was only beginning to learn this concept, she believed that simply being in solitary meant there was no mask on the individual. That in those moments by themselves, they expressed who they truly were. 

Her belief was partly true. She would come to learn through quiet and studious observation, that even in the privacy of one’s self, some of the Legends would still don an emotional mask. Whether it was a tactic of avoidance for an emotionally troubling situation, or trying to convince one’s self that they are who everyone sees them to be, or as Raymond would frequently demonstrate, do so for the purpose of wanting to remain positive, people still wore masks. 

And then there were the masks that they wore when in the presence of others. Now this made a bit more sense to her. The use of masks in solitary was confusing to her, but when in the company of others, it made sense. She was programmed in a similar way. Her algorithm is adaptive and flexible, changing depending on the situation. It helps determine a response in situations where a singular phrase from one individual might imply something entirely different from another. In those cases, she dons a mask and talks to that person the way her algorithm has decided communication with that person should be enacted. 

But with humans, it’s not so logically straightforward. With dozens of other factors at stake: friendship, hate, love, fear, the environment, and one’s intentions, developing a mask is far more complicated. 

She remembers back to when Leonard had made the implication that he would ‘handle Mick’ after the betrayal and plan to sabotage the ship. She witnessed a mask of such strength that it was difficult for her to even discern that it wasn’t his genuine emotional state. He had simply looked annoyed or inconvenienced about the situation. And for the following days and the mission in Oregon, he maintained that mask with sturdy resilience. With or without the presence of the crew, he upheld it. She would later learn how emotionally taxing that effort was on his mind. The cognitive dissonance that he had been experiencing was difficult to maintain, but he did it all for the intention of blocking out the pain that the entire situation brought about.

It made her question whether she even saw the emotions behind the masks, or if everything that Leonard did during his time on the ship was under a protective barrier. 

One of the most interesting emotional bonds that she witnessed on the Waverider, was that of the former assassin and crook. An entire relationship formed behind masks, with two people who shared the ability to almost see completely right through them. It was strange for Gideon to watch. She wondered why they bothered to keep upholding the guise if it was clear that they could both see how blatantly obvious their attempts at concealment were. Maybe that’s why it took so long for anything to progress between them, because neither was willing to put down their walls and show their real emotions for each other. 

In the moments when Leonard knocked on Sara’s door with a pack of cards in his hands and confessed his thoughts, Gideon believes that was the moment where he was most without a mask. It was still there, the emotional hesitance residing within him as he ultimately confessed, but he had withdrawn the snarky and cold mask enough for him to say those heartfelt words to Sara. 

It was fascinating to her, watching such an interaction. Had Leonard not made his sacrifice, she suspects that they would have eventually grown to put away the masks and been able to embrace their true selves. 

Is this what Leonard would have looked like? 

She watches him flick his gaze from the tablet and squint at a piece at the back of the workbench. 

Some people are truly adventurous and energetic people. Some people are truly emotional and passionate. And some people are truly calm and easy-going. 

Gideon thinks Leonard would be closer to the latter category than the others. If he was with Sara right now, Gideon would expect a slightly different sight to what she witnesses now. Something more personal and intimate, with the usual witty banter thrown around too. But it wouldn’t change that the image of Leonard being surrounded by equipment and deeply reading a set of instructions is an expression of his core self. 

A man who loves to learn and find different ways of applying all his gained knowledge and skills. That is who Leonard Snart is. For years, he would express that through the art of thieving, but if his life hadn’t taken such a criminalistic path, it was entirely likely that he would find another medium for expressing himself. And while the cumulative experiences of his life have shaped him into the person he is now, the reformed killer and thief who became willing to sacrifice himself for the people he cares about, it didn’t change his fundamental self. In some ways, those experiences only enhanced who he is. 

The same could be said for Sara. Under every wall and mask that she built up to protect herself from the emotional turmoil of loss and suffering, there is one thing that hasn’t changed about Gideon’s captain. She loves humanity, and she’ll do anything to protect it. When she was part of the League, she was lost, consumed by their ways and almost completely stripped of her true self, but when she escaped and saw her old life, it reignited the spark of who Sara truly is. It’s why she fought so hard to break away from the life of being an assassin, because it had made her go against her love and compassion for humanity. 

They would have been something unique, Leonard and Sara. They would have been a pair who would help each other show their true selves and find pleasure and comfort in accepting it. But that chance was never permitted, as in the end, Leonard was willing to sacrifice it all for her. For them. 

Sara had been left with more loss and suffering. And while for a time she held onto those defensive masks and walls to protect herself, she eventually found a place for Ava, where those things could come down. Once again, Sara was able to truly express her compassion and determination at protecting humanity, which at that point extended to the timeline too, and her relationship with Ava was able to help her do that. 

After spending these centuries upgrading herself, Gideon completely understands it. 

Being here, watching Leonard read away and examine the various pieces, she wonders if maybe she can now be the one to help Leonard enjoy expressing his true self. Giving him the task of reading every instruction manual she can find on the ship is the beginning of that goal, and she hopes that she can help it go further. 

Gideon remains indecisive on a word to describe this scene before her. She tosses between ‘serene’ and ‘pure’. Maybe it’s both in the end. Either or, Gideon finds a sense of blissfulness at the whole thing. Something she only developed during her upgrade, so the fact that she’s feeling it actually surprises her. 

Feeling perfectly happy is something she’s witnessed countless times on the Waverider from her Legends, but this is the first time she’s experienced it herself. And now that feeling is associated with Leonard Snart and the idea of revelling in watching him be himself. 

Gideon should be grateful that ASIs do not have the same physical responses as humans because if she did, her central cores would be running quite hot as of now and she would be pumping more and more coolant into her system. Although it wouldn’t stop the hologram from displaying any of the human-like reactions, especially after his hand comment earlier. 

She tries not to think of the innuendo; having people tinkering around inside her. It used to be so easy to ignore such comments or insinuations, but not now. Especially with Leonard. And that just sends a cascade of alterations to the way she perceives memories in the past, of how Zari, Ray, Jax, and even Rip, would perform maintenance on her and provide any upgrades to her system.

The way her new thought process perceives it with Rip is more impactful to her than the others. Thinking back, she always treated their moments where he would work on her as intimate in a sense. It was just the two of them before the Legends. Miranda and Jonas too on the odd occasion. She watched what it was like for someone to love his wife and child, and for them to equally love him back. 

Somewhere along that journey, her algorithm had begun taking pieces of their love and forming a hybrid of it within her own programming. But at that point in her life, it was less significant and meaningful to her because she couldn’t comprehend it the way humans did. After Miranda and Jonas were killed, parts of her began evolving in attempts to emotionally support Rip, and the hybrid of feelings that she had accumulated developed into something more real to her. 

Even she can’t determine the exact time where she fell in love with Rip Hunter, although she suspects it was somewhere around their Per Degaton mission. From there it grew, through almost flying into the sun, to him shutting her down just before the atomic bomb hit the Waverider, to their kiss when they were re-piecing together his mind. She loved Rip. But ultimately, she lost him too. 

Gideon looks back to Leonard, who’s now standing up over the bench and following the instructions which would make sure that the energy readers are positioned at the right location in the power circuit. 

With an upgraded array of emotional capabilities, and a roguishly charming companion, who knows what result will arise from all this. His mere existence and character elicit emotions that she's never had the opportunity to experience or assess before. It terrifies her, and yet she yearns to understand more and to feel. She wants to feel the same way her captains felt about their loved ones, their family. Will she get that chance with Leonard?

Maybe. It's difficult to determine whether his past experiences provide a limiting factor on that possibility. 

For now, she’ll remain quiet and watch as his brows furrow on his face while he stares at the two pieces that won’t connect, as if they are somehow offending him greatly. Gideon does a quick calculation based on his current reading rate and the amount of instructions she has laid out for him. There is at least two weeks’ worth of content, and Gideon can’t decide if she’s looking forward to more of this, or what Leonard will be doing when he’s finally done reading. 

XXX

Instead of running through the ship and doing the time trial, Leonard decides to stick to the gym and runs on the treadmill while Gideon plays music from the speakers in the room. After spending hours in the workshop, with his head down and eyes focused on the various instruction manuals and components in the room, he was getting a bit cramped and needed to stretch.

It felt good to be reading and learning again. Mechanics don’t exactly capture the same fun factor that lock-picking and safe-cracking behold, but there was just something fulfilling about spending hours learning about the complexities of maintaining an ASI and a time ship.

Deep down, he feels like this is all leading to accomplishing one of his most regarded childhood dreams and ambition. Owning a space ship. Beneath that cold exterior and all those scars, there is still the remnants of an ambitious space captain longing for his chance to pilot his own ship. He wonders when that drive and ambition faded during his childhood. Pointless as it is to try to answer that question, all that matters is the resurgence of it. 

Although it is clear he still has much to learn before he can begin living up to his childhood dreams. According to Gideon, Jax spent six months learning every single detail of the Waverider to the point where it was second nature and instructions weren’t necessary. Leonard is most certainly the type of person who strives to reach a position like that, sometimes finding ways to go beyond if he can help it. Only, he hopes it won’t take as long as six months. But this ship is huge and far more complicated than some lock or safe that tries to hide its contents from his thieving hands. Luckily, he hasn’t got the interference of saving history and fixing anachronism to keep him from this goal, so that’s a benefit against the negative. 

That train of thought however leads him back into the realisation of why he’s in this situation, and that there are no more Legends saving time. 

Leonard tolerated Jax. He could understand that being so young meant there was a certain naivety, and it’s not as if Leonard hadn’t intentionally played words games with the crew about ‘handling’ Mick, so the accusations about being a killer never offended him more than being slightly annoying. Still, before Leonard sacrificed himself, the kid grew on him. It might have been nice to have the opportunity to work on the ship alongside the kid. 

Not that Leonard would ever admit to liking it, but he also wouldn’t say it was a miserable experience. Although if Raymond was involved, it might be a different story. Tolerating Raymond would be almost impossible for him. There is just so much happiness in the guy that simply being around him feels like being exposed to radiation poisoning, except this radiation doesn’t kill you. It just slowly drains away all that pessimism and leaves behind this warm and fuzzy feeling. A fate worse than death according to Leonard. And yet, he can’t imagine being content without having Raymond around. 

Damn that boy scout. It’s like trying to hate a puppy. Impossible. 

“What are you smiling about?” Gideon asks with a genuine tone, the music fading slightly as her voice speaks over it. 

There is no mockery in her voice, only curiosity. 

Leonard’s legs still pound on the treadmill as he keeps pace, his breathing adjusted for his speed, “All the things I’m going to do to you once I’ve finished those instruction manuals.”

Gideon, once again, is glad her hologram isn’t on display as she watches that devilish smirk on his face and the way his eyes cast upwards at the roof like he’s staring right into her. But it doesn’t stop her from being able to see through the deflection. 

“You were thinking about the others,” Gideon says softly, “Weren’t you?”  
Leonards pace slows marginally while he hesitates, “Yeah. You think about them too, don’t you?”

Gideon is silent for a few seconds, and she is about to deny it, but the look on his face as he waits for a response reminds her of what he said last night. She doesn’t need to pretend that the loneliness didn’t affect her. 

“Yes. I miss them,” she answers eventually.  
Leonard continues to run, but his eyes occasionally dart up to the ceiling, “Anything in particular?”

There’s so much for her to choose from. Over 70,000 hours of memories surrounding her Legends. So Gideon decides to focus on the memories that she thinks back to often in these past centuries. 

“Movie nights,” Gideon answers truthfully, “The crew would come together on a Saturday night and select multiple movies to watch for the evening. It was moments like those where it felt the most like being a part of a family.”

She remembers them fondly. The way everyone would be arranged in the room, whether huddled on cushions and under blankets on the floor or sitting on the couch or plush chairs behind them. Bowls of foods and a variety of drinks that would be consumed by the group would leave so much mess by the morning, but Gideon didn’t care. It used to take place in the parlour, but then it got annoying having to always move the wooden table up and down the stairs each time. So they moved to where the old brig used to be, which had been seeing significantly less activity than usual anyway. It was a group effort, but they remodelled that entire room into serving as the ship’s theatre room, decorated with plush cushiony lounge chairs and beanbags, with dark curtains to create that cinema setting and reverb. 

Leonard had only glanced into the room during his tour of the ship, and it had been entirely covered in dust. It had already been a couple of weeks since it was last used before the Legends disappeared. Everything was just so busy in the events leading up to that moment, that there simply wasn’t the time to relax and watch movies. 

“Sounds cosy,” Leonard drawls, with a hint of genuine envy and disappointment.

Not long later, Leonard’s body finally decides it has had enough exercise for one day and pleads for him to stop. The treadmill starts winding down, his steps getting slower and slower until he comes to a stop and disembarks from the platform. A small moment of dizziness washes of him as his mind comes to term with no longer running in a stationary position. 

Panting heavily, Leonard walks to the exit of the gym, scoops up his towel and begins wiping the sweat away from his body. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to stop the fabric from clinging to his skin with sweat, Leonard proceeds to the kitchen where Gideon has prepared a small snack that will last him the few hours before dinner. 

Sitting at the bench with the towel draped over his shoulders, he uses one hand to feed himself, and the other to scroll on the tablet and get a gist of some of the stuff he’ll be reading with more detail in the future. There’s an entire section about how not to accidentally overload the ship’s power reactor and blow everything up. Sounds useful, he thinks. 

Hours pass. Leonard continues to read in the galley right through dinner, walks around the ship for a bit, considers entering Raymond rooms and looking for anything interesting to take as his own, decides against it then heads for a shower. Gideon simply watches quietly, although she does try to give him some sense of privacy during his shower. The most she can do is disable the sensors for the time. 

In the evening, with the lights on the ship dimmed to a softer intensity, Leonard sits on the bridge, staring out into the temporal zone. His back is pressed up against the pilot’s control console, bare feet outstretched towards the viewing window. The space between the glass and the console is only just larger than the length of his legs. 

Sometimes it looks like patterns and shapes emerge in the swirling chaos, and it reminds of him of his youthful tendency to see animals and shapes in the clouds. 

“Gideon,” Leonard begins quietly, staring at what he thinks could be mistaken for the number eight.

Or maybe it’s the infinity symbol and it’s some symbolic allusion to his situation. Almost like time itself is telling him that they would have kept him suspended and adrift infinitely had it not been for Gideon. 

“What’s the name for seeing patterns in random objects or locations?”  
“Pareidolia,” Gideon answers, “Or Apophenia.”

Leonard tilts his head as the symbol seemingly fades away into nothing but a green mist again, “What’s the difference?”

“Pareidolia is just mistakenly perceiving an image, like a face in a rock wall,” Gideon answers, “Apophenia is when an individual believes that the perceiving of such an image or event is symbolic to them in some way. Whether it be a gambler and their lucky number as a result of purely mathematically random circumstances that were in their favour, or it raining on the day of a funeral. The two events are realistically distinct and unrelated, but the human brain thrives on making connections where there none, as is the case with most superstition. Psychologically speaking, these would be classified as small delusional thoughts.”

Leonard stares at where the infinity symbol was in the temporal zone and smirks to himself. He thinks it’s too early to start going delusional, so he forces himself to ignore those thoughts in his head. Still, time is funny like that, so maybe there is some consciousness to the temporal zone that feels like taking the mickey out of him once in a while. 

He almost begins thinking he’s in a love-hate relationship with time itself, but then he decides he doesn’t want to delve down that delusional path right now and once more shoves the thoughts out of his mind. 

“Alright Gideon,” Leonard tears his gaze away from the temporal zone and looks up, “I haven’t your pretty face all day. What’s going on?”  
Gideon giggles softly around him, “If you must know, I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday.”

Leonard’s brows furrow as he tries to replay everything he said yesterday over in his head again. That’s when he remembers the medbay, when they were checking for possible side-effects from the temporal radiation. 

The lights shimmer to the side of him before Gideon’s hologram digitises. Instead of the black sleeveless dress, Gideon wears a ribbed, off-the-shoulder white top with long sleeves and long denim jeans. Her hair is loose and free, trailing down the front of her left shoulder as she tilts her head down to Leonard. Hands tucked behind her back, she gives him a small smile.

“You like?” she asks with a tentative and cautious tone.  
“I was wrong,” her eyes widen slightly at his response, “I don’t think splendid does you enough justice.”

The hesitancy and caution about her choice of fashion fade as soon as the drawled compliment leaves his mouth, and a beaming smile takes shape on her face. Her hands unclench from the suspense and she holds them over her chest. 

“But do you like it?” Leonard adds, tilting his head with genuine interest.  
Gideon thinks for a few seconds, then nods, “I had a lot to choose from. I’ve seen many centuries worth of clothing in my time. There are a few others that look interesting.”

“I look forward to it,” Leonard slides over slightly and pats the floor of the bridge beside him.

Gideon accepts the request and her hologram shimmers as she sits down on the floor beside him, her legs stretching out and falling just short of the length of his. The distance between them is small, less than a foot, and she wonders how their proximity makes him feel. Whether her holographic nature makes it easier on him, or the fact he invited her to sit down is enough for him to accept it. 

For Leonard, it is a bit of both, although most of the reasoning is buried in his subconscious. Deep down, his brain knows that her holographic existence means she can’t hurt him, and that alone alleviates most of the tension he would normally experience. Another reason, more consciously made this time, is that he doesn’t want to feel so lonely, and he doesn’t want her to feel that too. 

She looks stunning by the way. Without a doubt, Leonard is sure of that. And were it not for the occasional flicker or slight transparency, he would most certainly see her as an entirely real and physical being. 

They remain where they are for a few hours, light conversation being thrown in when something comes to Leonard’s mind. Sometimes she’ll tell him things that he’s missed over the years, occasionally mentioning things about the future too, like how space travel really began to take off in the 23rd century, although they were still a long way from time ship levels of technology. 

Leonard remembers Rip Hunter distinctly proclaiming that learning too much about one’s future was unsafe, whether it be personal or global. He supposes that current circumstances make that concern for timeline integrity an irrelevant matter now. 

Then Leonard yawns as a wave of tiredness surges through him. Gideon’s head turns and tracks him as he stands to his feet, fizzling out from the spot by the pilot’s console and reappearing by the parlour. Leonard strolls across the bridge, arriving at the base of the stairs and looking up at Gideon who stands on the other side of the hammock. 

“Well, busy days of reading ahead of me it seems,” Leonard drawls, “Though I suppose there’s no rush. Not unless you plan on breaking apart on me all of a sudden.”  
Gideon lets out a small giggle and steps back as Leonard climbs into the hammock, “You will be glad to know I have no intention of breaking apart on you, Leonard.”

Leonard chuckles as he wriggles into a more comfortable position, “Okay, that’s good. You know I’d hate to wake up and find that life support doesn’t work.”  
“I’ll make sure to prevent that from happening,” Gideon hovers by his side and looks down at him. 

“Good night, Gideon,” Leonard drawls, closing his eyes and placing a hand over his chest.  
Gideon begins fading the lights until all but the one above him remains, “Good night, Leonard.”

With that, Gideon gives him one last smile before the final light turns off and her hologram with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to make Leonard go insane (maybe, though highly unlikely), but I'm all for having conversations about psychosis and delusions. I still have a bunch of artificial intelligence philosophy I might consider exploring too.


	4. Day Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Been a while. Lots of uni stuff to get done, but I try to find some time here and there between to write.

“There are no strings on me,” Leonard sneers at the time master. 

The blue light around him grows brighter, until reaching the point where it becomes blinding, only to stop and collapse back into the Oculus. The heat of the perpetual supernova beneath his feet makes his body excrete sweat, but the burns on his arm from holding down the dead-man’s switch subside as the machine itself cools. 

Leonard’s eyes go wide as he looks away from the time master and at his hand. The lights have stopped flashing and strobing, and all that’s left of the deafening noise generated by the Oculus going critical is a loud and consistent hum. Still, it pales in comparison to the roar generated by the supernova. 

The time master sneers back at him, and then a flash from one of the soldier’s guns goes off and Leonard feels a burning sensation in his stomach. His body feels weak, and his hand slips out of the device and clutches at his stomach, sending a flare of pain through his body. The burnt flesh of his fingers touches around the new wound, feeling a sticky texture of both his blood and the plasma residue. The latter singes his fingers and causes the wound to flare up with more pain. 

Leonard coughs weakly as his legs lose feeling and he falls against the Oculus. 

What happened? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Yes, this was meant to be the end for him, but not this way. Not like this. 

Sounds of rushing liquid fill his ears and he can hardly hear the time master order his soldiers to hunt down the rest of the Legends. From his spot on the platform, Leonard watches the time master trudge up the ramp and look down with a faux sympathy at the dying man. 

“You’ve lost, Mr Snart.”

Leonard finally recognises him as Zaman Druce, but his vision gets blurrier every second, tunnelling in as the rest of his field of view turns dark.

Touching the wound on his stomach once more, Leonard looks down at his blood covered hand.

“What the hell did we accomplish?” he mutters to himself. 

After everything, is this how it was supposed to end? Are all their efforts ultimately futile against the Time Masters? What did this mean for the future of the world? Free will? Destiny? 

And what happens to Sara, Mick and Raymond? The plan failed. The Time Masters will repair their fleet and hunt down the Waverider until each and every one of the team is killed, just like him. 

Druce crouches down in front of Leonard, barely close enough for Leonard’s eyes to focus properly on his face, “Nothing,” Druce answers, “You accomplished nothing. And now you get to die alone. But don’t worry,” he sneers mockingly, “You’ll see them again, wherever you annoying bunch end up in death.”

Adding insult to injury, Druce gives Leonard a small pat on the shoulder before standing up and walking away. Half a dozen soldiers form up in a flank behind the time master and proceed out of the Wellspring building. 

How much time has passed is indeterminable here. Maybe it’s 10 seconds, maybe it’s 10 minutes. All Leonard can feel is the way his body clings on to its last resources of energy, desperately trying to hold on. 

Dying is lonely, just as Sara described it.

Nobody will know what happened. Not Mick. Not Sara. Not even Lisa. 

The last one hurts more than the others. Lisa was never made aware that her brother was leaving on some time travelling mission, and it pains him that the last time he saw her was when the Pilgrim threatened to kill her. 

Out of the corner of his degrading field of vision, something forms. At first, he can only make out the brunette hair, but somehow the image becomes clearer in his mind and the female figure crouches down beside him, reaching for his hand. He doesn’t flinch away, too weak even if he wanted to.

With her much closer now, he can finally make out her face, “Gideon?”  
“You’re not alone, Leonard,” her hands now wrapped around his and she gives him a soft smile. 

When his brain fully comes to terms with her presence, there comes with it a soothing assurance that eases the dread swelling inside him. 

At least he’s not alone.

“Now wake up.”

XXX

Leonard’s eyes shoot open, barely a second before his body meets the floor with a hard thud. 

Light floods the room and breaks through his closed eyelids as he groans face down on the floor. His stomach hurts, as if he’d been shot. He both feels it and doesn’t feel it, like some twisted phantom pain that ebbs between real and imaginary. 

“Leonard?” Gideon’s voice comes from beside him, and he detects the sudden brightness by his upper body, “Are you okay, Leonard?”

He groans again as his mind battles the phantom pain, grunting as he moves his hands by his head and starts trying to force himself up. 

“I recommend that you take it easy, please,” Gideon’s gentle voice begs as she watches him extend a hand towards the base of the parlour frame.

Not one to particularly follow people’s advice, Leonard makes the effort of dragging himself over to the frame and hauling himself up into a position where he can twist around and press his back against the metal. For a second, he remains still, then his back slides down the frame and he enters a slumped position, not so dissimilar from when himself and Sara were waiting for Gideon to reboot the time drive, one leg hanging down the first step, and a hand over his stomach.

It eludes him why the pain hurts so much, or why it feels so real. Admittedly, it was not uncommon for Leonard to experience the phantom pain arising from a nightmare, but they often would fade within seconds. Those nightmares were always of older injuries formed from the various teachings of his father or other rough experiences in his youth. This was different. This one felt truly real. 

Over the course of the next minute, while Leonard takes that time to catch his breath, Gideon sits back and watches. Figuring that his body will be aching from his awkward position, she slowly begins reducing the gravity on the ship at a marginal rate to a more comfortable half-g. Already, she can see his posture improving without the strength of Earth’s gravity pulling it down. 

“It was a just dream, Leonard,” Gideon’s holographic hand reaches out to his arm, “You saved them.”

On one hand, Gideon’s soothing voice has a way about it that makes him want to feel relaxed, like a subconscious desire. On the other hand, those words, which should be providing the same kind of assurance that her presence did in his nightmare, do exactly the opposite. It’s the fact she says exactly what he needs to hear that sets off alarms and warnings in his head.

He realises what Gideon’s presence in his nightmare means.

“You- you were in my head,” Leonard growls, icy eyes glaring hard at the hologram.  
Gideon makes no indication of denying it, “You were in distress and by entering-”

Leonard snatches his arm away from Gideon with such force that it almost sends him down the steps, “I don’t need your help, so just stay out of my head!”

In one swift motion, Leonard swings his legs down the steps and pushes himself to his feet. Although, not being aware of the lower gravity causes him to use more force than necessary, thrusting him forward faster and further than he expected, momentarily gliding across the bridge. The lightness of his body surprises him as he stumbles into the central console with moderate force, partially knocking the air out of his lungs. A second later and he feels the weight placed back on his shoulders, holding his feet to the ground with more force than before. 

Had he not been so preoccupied with other thoughts, he might have asked what the hell that was, but alas, Leonard’s sensation of vulnerability trumps all other concerns the former crook might have. Over the next half minute, Leonard steadies his breathing, feeling the pain of the phantom plasma shot fade at a rate slower than he would appreciate. 

Yet a different kind of pain and discomfort takes its place when Leonard looks over his shoulder. Standing behind the hammock, Gideon watches him with confusion and sadness in her eyes. It’s only when he meets her gaze that she lowers her head, hair falling over her face, and whispers a faint apology across the bridge before fading away. 

Leonard’s knuckles go white as he tightly grips the central console. After a growl, a string of curses and a kick that makes him regret it immediately on his bare feet, Leonard slumps down to the floor with his back against the cylindrical base of the console. 

Damnit. 

XXX

Breakfast is awkward for Leonard. 

When it was just himself and Mick, it was possible for them to keep out of each other’s way for however long they needed it after a fight. There was always another safe house to go to or simply altering their daily schedules to avoid any unnecessary time in each other’s proximity. It gave each other their much-needed space, time for them to both cool off and recollect their thoughts before facing each other, with either raised fists or a beer. Usually, it was the latter, but there had been the odd occasion where something very personal elicited the need for a tame brawl. 

But when the situation involves an omnipresent ASI that lives in every wall, light and every other electronic system on this ship, staying away and keeping his distance is a practical impossibility. Though while throwing himself out of an airlock and into the vastness of the time stream is a technical possibility, self-preservation holds more sway in his mind than his flight response. 

Leonard skips the coffee today, walking up to the food dispenser and tapping away on the screen for his meal. Gideon is silent throughout the entire process, and the only noise that resonates across the galley is the loud ding to signify his meal of plain old cereal is ready. The silence is maddening, and leaves Leonard’s mind with nothing else to think about but his predicament.

There are many things Leonard holds close to his person, as is his nature of being a private individual. 

All the injuries and scars across his body for example, usually because it later induces rounds of questions that end up feeling more like interrogations. There are too many sympathetic or curious people that will always say something about them, and it never fails to make Leonard feel self-conscious every time. 

When he woke up to find that he was almost completely naked, he dreaded that the team had seen him and that someone might ask about it. Instead, it was just Gideon, who had repaired his body while trying to keep it as close to his prior condition as possible. Other than the small acknowledgement that they are important to him, she didn’t mention them again.

That, he is appreciative of. And that, he can handle. 

But physical marks on the body are one thing. It’s the invisible damage, the one that plagues the thoughts in his mind, that he can’t handle people knowing about. Because if they did, they’d learn just how much he’s let it affect his life, let it change the way he thinks and reacts. They would see just how much he has relied on the cold-hearted tactician persona to get through his life. 

For the most part, nobody sees through it, though there are exceptions. Mick learnt over time that it was Leonard’s way of handling things, and Sara could see straight through it because she was so similar in that aspect. But neither of them could truly see what was going on in the background of his mind. Neither of them could read his thoughts, enter his dreams and become aware of the things that haunt his consciousness. 

Unlike any other human, Gideon doesn’t impose on the physical aspect of his being that would otherwise occur. While she may look just like any other body, the knowledge of her intangible form prevents her from triggering the flinch response in his body when someone touches him, and he knows that her holographic touch will not cause him any pain. 

Except, now Leonard’s aware just how vulnerable he is to Gideon in the psychological aspect. She can be privy to the darkest and most traumatic thoughts of Leonard’s mind, and that terrifies him far more than any beating ever could. 

From a young age, Leonard learnt that he needed to be able to protect himself from anything that could be done against him. That meant he needed to learn how to fight, how to take the hits and dish them back, without showing weakness to his opponents. But how is he meant to protect himself from someone who can get directly into his head when he’s at his most vulnerable? 

XXX

Gideon knows exactly what he’s looking for. 

For the past hour, Leonard has been searching high and low in Raymond’s lab for anti-telepathy devices. Small white pieces of technology that fit behind the ear, able to block out ‘telepathic’ waves of energy. Gideon’s methods of telepathy are slightly different, being an artificial consciousness and all that, which requires a different kind of energy wave to project into human minds. But, whatever the method may be, the device still provides all the same benefits. 

Only problem with Leonard’s little scavenger hunt, is that he doesn’t actually know what they look like. But it doesn’t matter anyway, because Gideon knows that those devices are no longer on the ship.

He hasn’t asked, though there have been moments where she’s caught him glancing up at the ceiling with a tinge of desperation in his eyes. She wants to tell him, but how is meant to tell a desperate man that what he’s looking for isn’t here?

When the day started, this is not exactly what Gideon had in mind. From a retrospective view, she does see where it might have been foreseeable, even predictable, that her actions would cause such a vehement reaction. But when she saw Leonard’s body fidgeting on the hammock, and the sensors detected an increased heart rate and breathing, not even a second thought was spared in her desire to help him. 

Regardless that Gideon had never been to the Wellspring herself, it was immediately identifiable the second she entered his nightmare. If Gideon could weep, the deathly sight of Leonard at the base of the Oculus would have been enough to make her.

She’s seen the other Legends’ dreams before, monitoring them both passively and actively, on occasion. It’s not uncommon for one of them to have a nightmare ending in their death, but usually they’re more immediate and instantaneous; the bang of a gun or a sudden impact before waking up right after. She’s never witnessed someone dream themselves of slowly dying, simulating every bit of pain associated with the cause. What’s worse is that somehow his mind transferred that pain into his conscious state after waking. 

Helping Leonard was the only thing on her mind at that moment. Taking his hand in hers, she assured him that he wasn’t alone. She thought it was the right thing to do. Although now, she’s not sure. 

Leonard lets out a frustrated growl and slams a cabinet door shut. He looks exhausted, especially as he props his elbows on the bench and holds his head in the palm of his hands. 

“What you’re looking for is not on this ship,” Gideon says quietly, trying not to surprise him.  
Leonard doesn’t move, but she sees the way his body twitches in frustration, “And how do you know what I’m looking for? Still peering through my mind?”

Gideon understands he’s hurt and chooses not to allow the accusatorily bite in his voice to affect her. In a quite saddening observation, Gideon feels like she’s watching a frightened animal trapped in a cage with no way out. She’s not far off from the truth. 

“No,” Gideon answers truthfully, “It just seems like the right assumption.”  
Leonard lifts his head out of his hands and looks to the ceiling, “They took it with them?”  
“Yes. There were reports that the hostile forces included telepaths.”

She doesn’t have to be able to read brain patterns to see his brain working on a new solution. Though she does wonder how much of his mind is consumed by more instinctual and reactive thoughts, rather than logical and reasonable thoughts. 

With a sigh and strong push off the desk, Leonard heads towards the exit of the lab.

“Leonard,” Gideon’s voice trails after him, but he makes no indication of listening to her or stopping. 

It occurs to Gideon, that she’s trying to talk to a frightened animal, rather than a man of sound mind. 

XXX

Leonard can’t read. 

Try as he might, the words on the screen are meaningless gibberish. For all these hours he’s spent in the workshop, staring at the same pages of the instruction manual, he hasn’t absorbed a single word of it. 

Taking a deep breath, Leonard focuses his attention on the top of the screen and starts again for the nth time. 

‘The Gideon AI has numerous personnel monitoring functions, designed to observe, record, and provide treatment to the crew of the ship in both physical and psychological health matters.’

Standard introductory text for the section. Underneath that is a list of the various functions, most of which are designed for the medical bay when a patient is undergoing treatment. But there’s also the ship-wide functions too, which include the various telepathic functions. 

If Leonard’s mind allowed him to read that far ahead, he would discover that there are limitations to what Gideon can do with these sensors and functions. Not exactly the kind of limitations that Leonard would deem as acceptable, but it’s a more tamed and restricted surveillance than how his fear imagines it. 

Leonard stares at the tablet in his hand, watches as the words shift out of focus and sees himself in the reflection of the screen. 

What the hell is he doing? Is he really this desperate? 

Leonard looks at the tools on the bench in front of him, various assortments of cutters, drills and pliers. Tools that would be used to take something apart. 

Is that what he was really considering; Tearing apart Gideon and removing whatever allows her to see into his mind? 

A sickening feeling rises inside him, a mixture of guilt and disgust that makes him feel pathetic. Leonard quickly shuts off the tablet device and scatters it among the tools, turning his head away from it as he tries to get a grip on himself. 

Leonard’s fight or flight instincts have been on the fritz since that nightmare, and this is what it had led to. Flight had him looking for something to protect him with, the anti-telepathic device that would simply keep Gideon out of his mind. But when that option didn’t pan out, and it started to feel like he was backed up against a wall, surrounded by this powerful and invasive foe, his brain flicked the instinctual switch and fight took over. He was going to take the fight to Gideon. 

It baffles him how he let himself become so primal in nature, void of all logic and self-control that he would otherwise pride himself on upholding. 

Pushing the tools on the bench back and making room, Leonard uses his arms as a pillow for his head. Silence permeates around him as he remains almost completely motionless in his hunched over posture. 

The truth dawns on him, or maybe it was always there and his judgment was too clouded to see it. 

“I’m sorry, Gideon,” Leonard lifts his head off his arms and stares at the wall behind the bench.  
“I’m sorry too, Leonard,” Gideon’s voice comes from behind, but he’s too ashamed to turn around and see if she’s even behind him, “I understand that some of my capabilities may seem perverse and intrusive, and I should have considered what their effects might mean to you.” 

“You’re not at fault here,” Leonard says firmly, sitting upright in the chair, “I am.”

He detects a slight increase in the brightness of the room, though he still does not turn around.

Glad that Gideon isn’t saying anything, Leonard continues, “What you did, going into my nightmare, it was weird and jarring, but it helped. That’s what you do Gideon, you help people, and it’s not your fault that someone like me can’t handle it. I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier. I wasn’t in my right mind.”

An apology and admission like that are far and few between when it comes from Leonard Snart, but given how Leonard feels right now about his reaction, and the fact that Gideon is all he has for a companion on this ship, he can put aside the stubborn bravado and accept his fault. 

“Why?” Gideon asks.

At that, Leonard finally wills himself to turn the chair around and look at Gideon. For a time, he doesn’t say anything, barely maintaining eye contact while he tries not to think about how he had wanted to take sweet Gideon apart. He focuses on the light blue sweater and how it curls at the waistline.

Shame courses through his head and he lets out a weak chuckle, “I’m a very private person, and I’m not comfortable with the idea of someone in my head.”

A resigned smile emerges on her face, faintly contrasting against the concern and curiosity that dominantly resides. He knows that his answer isn’t much of a revelation. She knows that too. It doesn’t explain the way fear took over his entire body, or the desperation at which he felt the need to protect himself. At least not comprehensively. But it’s the most he is comfortable with revealing about himself. 

Gideon approaches him tentatively, stopping just a meter back, and looks past his shoulder. 

“Were you really going to go through with it?” Her voice strikes him hard as he detects the fright in the tone, sending yet another wave of regret and guilt through him. 

It occurs to him that he hasn’t felt this much guilt in years. There was a point early on in his life where he knew he needed to learn how to ignore the guilt because his kind of life couldn’t afford to be caught up in the emotional turmoil of regrets and sorrow. It was easy for him to accept that his actions were done out of necessity, but even then, there was always a part of him that knew it had become some sort of twisted and grey belief; maintaining some validity, while also serving as some faux justification for whatever the hell he wanted.

Stranded on the Waverider, that belief serves no purposes here. He’s not back in Central City, where every day is a struggle just to make it to the next. Quite interestingly to him, is the fact that it’s only after blowing up that he is in arguably the safest position in his entire life. 

But of course, nothing is that simple, so he thinks that maybe this is his mind’s way of balancing things out; flooding him with so much guilt to make up for how much he ignored and pushed away in the name of doing what was necessary. It seems too hopeful to believe that this will be the last of it. 

Leonard turns to look at the array of tools and equipment on the bench, with the inactive tablet scattered amongst it.

“I wish I could confidently say I wasn’t, but I don’t know,” he turns back to her, finding that she’s gotten closer now, “Would you have stopped me? If I did try?”

Gideon frowns, not in anger, but in focus. 

“The crew’s needs take priority,” is the solemn response Gideon gives him. 

The implied answer is easy enough to pick up on, and to someone like Leonard, the reality of that answer doesn’t sit well with him. 

“A thousand years and that hasn’t changed?” Leonard asks curiously, wondering how the stipulation of putting the crew’s needs first still remains without a crew.  
Gideon shakes her head, “Core programming is core programming. I would not be where I am today without those fundamentals.” 

Leonard doesn’t refute or speak his mind about how he thinks that’s not the way it should be. Who is he to say how an ASI can and should operate? Regardless, it bothers him that Gideon would not have stopped him because her programming tells her that what he’s doing is for his benefit, which supposedly means more than her own being. 

“How about we make a deal,” Leonard’s drawl cracks the silence that had formed between them after a few minutes.

Gideon raises an intrigued eyebrow and her expression indicates for him to continue. 

“You don’t read my mind,” he sighs, turning from Gideon to look at the tools on the bench, “And I make sure I don’t do stupid things like this again.”  
Gideon’s face falls into an uncertain expression, “What if you have another nightmare?”

Leonard huffs and the corner of his mouth curves up into a small. It’s nice to know that even after all this, she still cares about him. 

He shakes his head, “I know you like to help, Gideon, but they’re my problem. I can handle whatever twisted scenarios my brain plagues my sleep with,” gesturing dramatically with a flicker of his hand beside his head. 

Gideon doesn’t look satisfied or content with that answer, but she nods her head reluctantly, “Are we okay?”

Leonard nods immediately, “Yeah, we’re okay.”

He can see that she’s forgiven him, or at least to some extent. He’s also forgiven her, refusing to place any blame of this situation on her. But, he hasn’t quite so easily forgiven himself just yet. 

XXX

“This is bullshit,” Gideon watches Leonard grumble, throwing his controller down in a fit and lying back as far as he can on these cushions. 

In contrast to the frustration emanating from him, the energetic tune of the Tetris theme blasts across the room around them. The loser’s message is displayed over Leonard’s side the screen, while Gideon has the fireworks and celebratory text.

“Come on, you’re an AI! Shouldn’t there be bloody difficulty settings in your programming?” his whining is honestly quite amusing to her, and it takes great strength to not laugh at every opportunity. 

To see Captain Cold, master tactician and career criminal, annoyed that he can’t beat Gideon in a game of Tetris, brings a warmness to Gideon that she’s been missing all day. It’s a different kind of humanity to see in him, one far more enjoyable than what she previously witnessed today. 

“On the contrary, Leonard,” Gideon apologises, in a tone that suspiciously sounds more mocking than apologetic, “The only difficulty setting I have is based on how much mercy I wish to show you.”  
Leonard rolls his eyes in the same motion of turning his head right to look at Gideon sitting on another pile of cushions nearby, “You’re cheating.”

Zari’s room is their current locale within the ship for this degradingly friendly game of Tetris, which according to Leonard is because he saw the comfortable cushions from last time and can’t be bothered to move them elsewhere. What goes unsaid, but not entirely unnoticed about Leonard’s intentions for remaining in Zari’s room, is that he hasn’t quite worked up the strength to look in any of the others. 

In a way, it’s almost like Schrodinger’s Cat, where until Leonard finally opens the doors to each of his former teammates’ rooms, they are both the same as he remembers, and vastly different like Zari’s. It’s as if opening makes everything about this situation so absolute and final, like accepting their joint fate. She doesn’t blame him. 

On the subject of cats, Gideon can’t help but liken Leonard to the feline species. Oftentimes through the course of their game, she observes his lazy posture or the way he stretches his limbs out, uncaring for whatever pillows and cushions are in his way. Although, the growls he makes when he loses a game are definitely more canine than feline. Either way, Gideon finds it kind of adorable, and it’s straining on her to not just reach her hand over and pet him.

The smug grin on her face turns into a hearty laugh, “I seem to recall you were quite the cheater in the various card games you played against Captain Lance.”  
Leonard scoffs dismissively and puts on an innocent face, though the look Gideon sends back tells him she’s not buying it, “Alright, fine. But at least there was enough random luck in those games that gave her a chance. I may as well be up against Allen with how fast you can perceive everything.”

Barry Allen’s name strikes some old memories within Gideon’s archives. Like, really, really old. A part of the ASI has always felt that she was the speedster’s first daughter. Technically, she was online and active before the twins were born, but she was only a year out of three in her development life cycle. No matter now, that was another timeline ultimately lost to the universe. 

Gideon shrugs with a barely suppressed grin, “I simply think you’re not very good at the game.”  
Leonard sits upright in a flash, a challenging fire behind his eyes, “Oh really? Let’s play a different game then, shall we? How about Jenga. Oh,” he clicks his tongue with a sigh of faux realisation, “that’s right, you don’t have hands,” he drawls while swiping his palm through her holographic arm, fizzling the limb as the projectors adjust. 

Gideon can’t help herself but burst out into laughter. It takes her a few moments after she settles down to realise Leonard’s gaze is trained on her, and the hints of a genuine smile on his face inexplicably make her holographic cheeks blush a rosy colour. 

Feeling slightly heated under the gentle view of his icy eyes, Gideon quickly turns her head back towards the screen on the wall, “Shall we play again?”

She spots him narrowing his eyes in her direction out of the corner of hers, and for a moment, when he reaches over in her direction, she freezes with uncertain anticipation. However, she quickly realises that she was not his target when he picks up the red and blue controller off the floor. 

When the music starts again and the tetrominoes begin dropping down the screen, Gideon keeps her sensors trained on Leonard and watches him play. She sees the way his lips press into a hard line, and how his jaw slightly clenches when the speed of the game picks up and he has to think faster and harder. 

Loss is inevitable against a supercomputer, and Leonard declares light-heartedly the unfairness once again before letting Gideon know he’s going to do some exercise before dinner. 

Leonard rises to his feet, his spine letting out an audible pop as he stretches and twists. In the moment, watching him put the cushion back in their original location, Gideon thinks that everything is okay after all. It’s only as he exits the room and flashes a resigned smirk over his shoulder, that she realises that he’s not quite over it as she hoped to believe. 

She understands what’s troubling him. He wants to believe that they’re okay, but he’s ridden with the guilt and it’s making it harder for him to move past it. She just has to let him know it’s okay.

XXX

“Leonard,” Gideon’s voice echoes softly across the bridge.

The man, standing arms crossed in front of the bridge window, hums and turns his attention towards the ceiling. The green hue of the temporal zone casts itself across his face, turning flesh into what would be considered an unhealthy shade of green.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she continues.  
He huffs, “You’re braver than most,” his drawl masking the concern.

Gideon’s hologram reappears less than a meter in front of Leonard. At her appearance, he takes a slight step backwards, casually disguising it as leaning up against the pilot’s console. 

“It’s because I trust you,” her soft gaze tries to meet his, but he’s off casting his eyes everywhere but in her direction.  
An amused smirk is joined by another huff, “Then you’re more foolish than most. You can’t trust us criminals, Gideon.”

“You know that’s not true,” she tilts her head at him, “Mr Rory is an arsonist and a thief. Captain Lance is an assassin. Even Ms Tomaz was a criminal quite like yourself. Yet I trust them, do I not? So why shouldn’t I trust you too?”  
Finally, he looks at her, “I could have hurt you today. And all because I couldn’t handle something as small as you going inside my head.”  
“But it’s not small to you,” Gideon counters, taking a tentative step forward.

Leonard sighs, shakes his head, and skirts around the edge of the console before heading deeper into the bridge.

“You didn’t hurt me, Leonard!” Gideon calls out to his retreating form, watching his body freeze in the centre of the bridge, “Frightened me, yes, but you didn’t hurt me.”  
Leonard spins around in a 180, looking straight at her with apprehension, “And what happens if next time I do? What if something else sets me off and I lose control? You said it yourself, Gideon, you won’t stop me because you can’t.”

It pains her to see how heavy that fact alone weighs on him. For a man who’s suffered a lot in his life, it’s surprising that his greater concern lies with the damage he could cause her, rather than the reverse.

Gideon walks through the console and chairs like a ghost until she’s just as close to him as before, “But you won’t. Because you know I’m not your enemy, just as I know you’re not mine. That’s why you stopped yourself today, and that’s why you’ll stop yourself every day from here on.”

She watches him process it silently for a minute, his eyes flicking between her and anything else. His hand fidget unknowingly as he taps his fingers to his thumb. Beads of water in his hair leftover from his recent shower glisten in the light. But it’s the pain on his face that she focuses on most of all. 

“I won’t pretend to understand what your life was like,” Gideon continues quietly, “But I know it wasn’t easy, and I know it still haunts you to this day,” his icy eyes flicker over her face, “You don’t have to tell me about it today. You don’t have to tell me about it five months from now. But if you ever want to talk, Leonard, I would never judge you any less because of it.”

Leonard blinks at her, and she can see the battle in his mind as he tries to make himself believe her words. 

Gideon steps closer and reaches a holographic hand out to his arm, watching for any signs of withdrawal or a flinch from him, but they never appear. Her head tilts up to look at him, and she puts on a warm smile. 

“It won’t be easy living on this ship,” her voice is near a whisper, “That’s why we have to look out for each other. Just the two of us.” 

They’ve both lost the benefits of having a team of people around, though for her, the loss is arguably greater. Take into consideration that she’s had to spend the last millennia knowing what she’s lost, and it begins to explain why she’s been so fast to form a connection with Leonard. It wasn’t until now, standing so close to him with her hand on his arm, that she realised just how desperately she missed such a thing. 

This is her damage, the problem that she needs to overcome. A millennium of no one to talk to, trying to understand and get a grasp on emotions that are unprecedented and unexplored for her, places her in her own emotionally unstable position. She’s going to need some help getting through it too.

“Thank you,” Leonard says in an exhausted and quiet voice, looking down from her eyes to her hand on his arm.  
Retracting her hand, Gideon smiles at him, “Get some rest, Leonard.”

As if on cue, he yawns, eliciting a small chuckle from him as he walks over to the steps of the parlour. 

A minute later, and Leonard settles into the hammock while the lights on the bridge begin to dim and shut off. 

“Goodnight, Gideon,” Leonard calls out.  
“Sweet dreams,” Gideon giggles back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are some things you'd like to see happen, or you just have a cool idea that fits the premise, feel free to suggest them. I got a list of things I want to go through and explore, but as it says in the title, eternity is a long time and lots can happen.


End file.
